Pay the Piper
by ButtonMashr
Summary: Story Six: They thought they'd bought protection... but when family and friends are threatened, Jughead and Brand have to make a high-stakes plan. Fast. Thankfully, they've got an army of allies. Life doesn't slow down, though: dreams are coming true - and the SATs are coming up!
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to story six of the Jughead-is-held-hostage-and-stuff series! I actually intend for this to be capable of standing as a conclusion to the series (I'm trying to convince myself as well as prepare you all for that possibility), but I make zero guarantees. Life, characters, and all of that have proven to me time and again that I cannot stand up effectively to the siren call of the sequel. Or fifth sequel, as the case may be. :)**

**C'est la vie!**

**If you're hopping in here, I'd advise at least reading story five (Shifting Territories), since we've got a whole lot of fallout from that story that we're dealing with from the outset. I have not heard definitively from any reader that Shifting Territories successfully stands alone(?), but I did make an effort to scaffold it so that people could jump in there if they wanted. Otherwise, well, Beggars Can't Be Choosers is the first in the series and I have clearly marked the order of the stories in the series (see you in a week or two? :). **

**Enjoy! **

**-Button**

**00000**

**Prologue**

**00000**

Brand took the stairs two at a time, and even so FP had one hand pressed between his shoulder blades, urging him to move more quickly.

They burst into Jones' old room, and when the light switch did nothing - the room remained lit only by the moonlight through the window -, the many quotes written on the plain wallpaper seemed to shift eerily on the walls.

"He's not here." FP stumbled further into the room, and anger warred with panic in his tone. "Brandon, he's-,"

"We're here, Dad. Brand." Jughead's voice emanated shakily from the shadowed alcove he'd long since converted from a closet by removing its door. "We're right here."

"What do you mean, 'we'?" Brand started fumbling for the lamp. The light switch was turned on, so if he could just find the pull chain on the lamp he could get some light into the room. "Are you okay, kid?"

"I kidnapped someone, Brand." Jughead's voice was suddenly filled with tears. "Can I get in trouble for that? If they were already kidnapped?"

FP started fumbling toward the closet in the dark. "You _what_?"

"He rescued someone, FP." Brand had a terrible flash of clarity, just as his hand found the lamp's chain. He pulled it, and light spilled over the room - and the situation. "Jones rescued someone who didn't want to be rescued. And probably with good reason."

Sure enough, there were two teenage boys huddled on the closet floor. Both were looking up fearfully at Brand and FP.

"This is _not _going to make our mission any easier." Brand rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shut up, Brandon." FP moved to the closet and crouched to pull Jughead into a hug. "You did the right thing, Jug. I would have given anything for someone to bring you home to me when it was you who was missing. We'll figure this out together."

"We're gonna have to." Brand's tone was dry, but he softened when he met Jughead's worried gaze over FP's shoulder. "It'll be okay. You only made the same decision I did about you, kid. Sometimes it's worth the risk."

**00000**

**Chapter One**

**(Two W****eeks After The Conclusion of Shifting Territories)**

**00000**

Jughead barely caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and he reacted instantly. His elbow was up and coming around while he twisted his body and dropped his center of gravity.

And then a set of arms that were not supposed to be a part of this bout grabbed him and he was taken powerfully - but carefully - to the floor.

"_Whoa_, killer!" Brand was laughing as he broke the worst of the impact before it could jar any sharply aching ribs, and then gave his godson's head a playful shove into the padding on the floor of the Joneses' basement.

Nobody else was laughing.

"Um," Jughead shifted uncomfortably under Brand's weight and tried to see up and behind him. "Are you okay, Betty?"

"I'm fine!" Betty's voice squeaked and she coughed once. "Maybe… I mean, it's possible that you're too good at this to teach me, Jug."

"He needs to learn how to teach. Besides, he's still recovering; once you figure out how to exploit his ribs, this should be a piece of cake, Cooper." Brand's voice was suddenly businesslike as he climbed to his feet and dragged Jughead stumbling after him. "Again."

"Absolutely not." Agent Sarah Quinn stepped in then - literally - and turned her back on Brand in order to face Betty. "This was a fine experiment, but I think it's one that has failed. Maybe you and I should work together for a few weeks while those two develop some teaching techniques that don't involve Jughead overriding battle-hardened instincts. His ribs can finish healing, too. How does that sound?"

"I would love that," Betty answered eagerly. "But are you sure you have the time? I know a lot's changing for you at work right now."

"Not as much as you'd think," Agent Quinn shrugged. "I was only ever with the RA on a temporary basis. I was always headed to the field office once things quieted down in the Southside. And Davies isn't wrong; teaching is an important skill to keep up, so you'd really be doing me a favor. So. Are you in?"

"Definitely. Thanks." Betty beamed.

Jughead gave Brand a frustrated look.

"What, kid? You nearly creamed your girlfriend. So you get fired as personal trainer. That's how it works. You and I can practice on your dad for a few weeks and then give this another go."

"Are you being careful when you train with FP?" Sarah looked from Brand to Jughead, clearly concerned. "Should he try working with me and Betty for a while too?"

"That would be fine with me," Betty offered quickly.

"Think long and hard about your answer, Brandon." FP's voice rang out in the basement. Jughead looked up the stairs to where his father was leaning into view. "You've got two witnesses, plus Trigger, who need to corroborate your story."

"You are _fine_, FP." Brand glowered. "What he's so subtly referring to is the fact that we're officially taking a break from improvised weapons training. Because FP is lethal with a glass water pitcher."

"We're also on a break from training while setting the table. It was a housewarming gift from the Andrews family," Jughead interjected, "so I think Brand must have scared Dad or he would have come up with something else."

Betty and Agent Quinn blinked at the men.

"Do you three just… do this? Randomly?" Agent Quinn asked the question with a decidedly neutral tone, but seemed braced against their answer.

"There is nothing _random _about good training habits-," Brand began, but FP shouted him down from the top of the staircase.

"See, Brandon? Stated training times. Listen to the FBI on this one."

Jughead's tone was anxious when he interjected. "But then I won't be-,"

"Wound so tightly that you nearly break your girlfriend's face?" Agent Quinn interrupted, and Jughead winced - but then he saw that Agent Sarah wasn't even looking at him. She was focused on Brand.

"This is what he needs-," Brand began.

"He does not live in a combat zone - and you know what, even if he did-," Sarah squared her shoulders.

Betty and Jughead quickly made their way to the stairs as Brand and Agent Quinn turned to face off with each other. It looked like this might turn into an argument.

And then it didn't.

"Look, why don't you just come at me." Brand waved Sarah toward himself. "Show me what you've got and we can compare teaching techniques."

Sarah looked shocked for a moment, but then she studied Brand's easy grin. A smile spread across her face, and moments later they were both laughing and sparring at half speed while Brand made suggestions and Sarah countered them with some ideas of her own.

FP motioned for the two teens to come upstairs, and they quickly obeyed.

Jughead closed the door to the basement. "Man. I've never seen Brand fight with anyone like that. He was being _nice_."

"That's the sort of fighting that you don't take out in public, boy. Brandon needs to sort some things out if those two really aren't planning to date," FP responded dryly. That had been Brand's line about the dinner invitation: they were just colleagues, and she was more a 'friend of the family' than anything else. "Come help me finish up with dinner while they blow off some steam. You can let Trigger out of your room if you're done sparring."

Betty glanced back at the basement door with a slight frown. "Agent Quinn has some strong opinions about your training, Juggie."

"Yeah. Sure. About my _training_," Jughead scoffed as he bounded up the stairs to let Trig join the party.

FP looked back over his shoulder as he led Betty into the kitchen. "Hang on; what do _you _think that's really about, Jughead?"

Jughead shrugged as he walked back toward the kitchen with Trigger pressed against his left leg and snuffling him for unfamiliar scents. He was suddenly reluctant to share his theory in front of Betty. "I don't know. I haven't talked to Brand - to either of them - about it."

"If you had to make a wild guess." FP turned to face Jughead then, his eyes narrowing. "Do you think this has anything to do with debrief-,"

Jughead's eyes went wide and his father stopped short. It was too late, though.

"Wait... _Agent Quinn_ was involved in your debriefing?" Betty looked from FP to Jughead, and the answer was clearly written on both of their faces.

"Well," FP rubbed the back of his neck, not sure if he should feel badly about giving away that information to Betty or annoyed with Jughead for putting him into this position, "it sounds like they're winding down if you two feel the need to take over the basement for a few minutes and clear the air."

"Very funny, Dad. And, uh, Agent Quinn did one part of my debriefing. At the beginning. It's not, like, anything big-,"

"Okay. But you think they might disagree over it? Why?"

Jughead heard his father snort with laughter as he put all of that together.

"Brand didn't seem particularly... _responsible _in most of the stories we focused on during debriefing." Jughead shrugged again, trying to lighten the impact of his words.

"Because you missed so much school?" Betty guessed, wrinkling her nose sympathetically.

"Uh… sure." Jughead heard his dad snort a second time and elbowed him. FP simply looped an arm around his son's shoulders and then playfully restrained him with a hold that Brand had taught him. "Anyway, it's classified. We should talk about something else. And Dad, I can get out of this one, but you won't like it if I do."

FP let Jughead go.

"Are you okay?" Betty turned to FP then, responding to his continued snickering. Her tone became wry in clear support of Jughead in this exchange - even though she was not sure what the father and son were disagreeing about. "Do you maybe need some water?"

"Yeah. Water would be great." FP smirked at Jughead when Betty turned to fill a glass with ice water. "Thank you, Betty."

Jughead folded his arms.

"Brandon just had to bring a coworker to dinner, huh? Well, this is what he gets. The one person who has the inside track on his faults." FP nodded to himself in satisfaction. "This could be fun."

They heard footsteps coming up from the basement and quickly busied themselves with moving the food from the kitchen to the dining room table.

**00000**

"Turn off your cellphone, kid." Brand was in a good mood over dinner, but by the time they were finishing and almost ready for dessert, Jughead felt like he was getting a little more negative attention than usual. It was almost as if Brand was focusing on him to avoid focusing on-

"Brandon. I don't think he's hurting anything." Agent Quinn apparently had more opinions about Brand and Jughead.

"No - he's right - I should have turned it off." Jughead tried to appease them both and quickly got up from the table to stop his phone's vibrations on the kitchen island. "I've actually got a bad track record with leaving my phone on vibrate. Thanks, Brand."

That was apparently a little too much: Brand gave Jughead a warning look as he returned to the table and took his seat next to Betty.

And then Brand's phone began to buzz in his pocket.

"Who would call me if they couldn't reach you?" Brand checked his phone with a frown.

Betty turned to Jughead, who shrugged. He hadn't even looked to see who had been calling.

"You have your phone on, and in your pocket?" Once again, Agent Quinn's tone was studiously neutral, but Brand ducked his head and avoided acknowledging her words.

"Aha. Clark; that's who." Brand stepped swiftly away from the table. "I'll be right back."

Silence fell over the table.

"So, Agent Quinn, I hear you like to cook as well," FP attempted to revive the conversation.

"Oh, I don't know if 'as well' is the right way of saying it," Sarah replied warmly. "I enjoy it; Davies is a little more devoted to the process than I am."

"Tell me about it." Jughead lit up over this unexpected source of solidarity. "But we had a bake-off, and even he had to admit that-,"

"I've gotta go." Brand came back through the room at a run, scooping up his shoes and slipping them on quickly. "I'll be back in twenty."

"What's going on?" Jughead was up and following before he'd fully thought it through. He turned back to the table. "Uh, Betty, do you mind if I just- it's Clark, and-,"

"Go, Jughead. I'll see you in twenty minutes." Betty nodded encouragingly. "You should help if you can."

The door closed behind them.

This time Sarah broke the silence. "Do they do that often? Kind of a… bat signal thing?"

"Nope. That's a first." FP shrugged, unconcerned. "It can't be much to write home about. You know Clark, right?"

"I do. He's sweet." Sarah nodded. "And yes, in my experience he's relatively low drama. You think it's a plumbing emergency? Maybe a cat got out? He seems like he'd have cats."

"Could be his car broke down, and we should have sent Betty along too." FP smiled over at his other guest, and Betty returned his smile with a modest shrug. "I don't think those two will be much help if that's the issue. But I can't complain about being left here with the best of the evening's company. Did you know Jug made mousse for dessert? We could make a dent in that in twenty minutes. I've got a few three-player games that we could break out, too."

"Sounds good." Betty turned to Sarah. "So, what are your favorite things to cook?"

"Well, I'm sure Jughead told you about the croissants," Sarah seemed not to notice when a shadow passed over Betty's expression, "but when I have the time I really like to make eclairs. It's a dangerous habit, but entirely addicting."

"Oh? Do you have dinner plans for next Friday?" FP grinned as he stood and began clearing the table.

"I'll check my schedule. I can send a dozen home with Jughead between now and then, too; you don't have to bribe me, and I'm always looking for someone to eat what I've made - although the burgers were excellent. So actually, bribery would most definitely work."

"Thank you." FP began rinsing the dishes and filling the dishwasher. "Jughead and Brandon had their doubts, but good ingredients make good food, no matter what they were worried might magically happen on the broiler. And keep this quiet, but I've paid attention here and there to their cooking sessions."

"Is it intimidating to cook for them?" Betty asked as she pulled out the board games she could see on a shelf under the coffee table. "I'm starting to get nervous about inviting Jughead over for meals."

"Just have him do the cooking and enjoy. I barely have to lift a finger in the kitchen anymore," FP confided. "It's a good system, and they haven't realized that, for the most part, doing the dishes is basically filling a machine and pressing a button - so don't you two fill them in."

Sarah and Betty laughed as they selected a speed-based pattern recognition game and brought it to the table.

"Ahh, you would pick that one." FP shook his head mournfully. "Well, I can at least try for a respectable third place. Let me get you ladies some mousse while you set it up."

They settled in comfortably to play a few speedy rounds while they waited for an update from the missing two.

**00000**

"You left a date?" Clark was sitting on the floor of the tiny galley kitchen in his studio apartment, his arms wrapped around his knees. "Both of you did?"

"No." Brand offered Clark a hand up.

"The real date's tomorrow, and it definitely won't include my dad and Brand," Jughead added. "I _had _thought we'd get some time practicing martial arts, and that might be vaguely date-like, but-,"

"But he's a machine. Like the Terminator. He doesn't turn it off well." Brand pulled Clark to his feet. "Let's see this threatening letter."

The card stock and handwriting was identical to the ones that Jughead had received in the spring from Donn, and it read 'Watch yourself. You're not under the same protection as FP, so spilling your guts could easily turn literal.'

"It's not so much the threat," Clark began to explain. "It's that whoever wrote this knows stuff they shouldn't. Nobody outside of the RA and field office should know that Jones' father is an asset, and somehow they also know that I've been read into the Southside investigation. Such as it is at this point."

The court cases were in process, and both Clark and Jughead had been debriefed by Agent Quinn once she'd finished the slightly less complicated interviews with Archie. They'd also been officially read into FP's role with the FBI in broad strokes, though they were not privy to any details. Jughead figured that was partly because there _were_ no details. He hadn't noticed his dad going anywhere unusual - suspicious - since the bombing, and he'd been watching closely.

Brand's eyebrows were up. "Do you think that FP has different protection from yours as an intern?"

Jughead looked back and forth between Clark and Brand, his eyes wide. It sounded like Brand wondered if Clark knew a little too much about Donn or Rose, but Jughead couldn't come up with anything he could say on the fly that would help - and not have the potential to make things much, much worse.

"Uh." Clark looked at the note again. "Doesn't he?"

Brand made brief eye contact with Jughead, and the teen was relieved to see that Brand had decided that he believed Clark was clueless. "He's got the Serpents. That's probably all this joker means. But I don't like that this showed up here less than a day after we got DeSantos situated." After a surprisingly uneventful stint as a roommate, Joaquin had finally been moved to secure housing the previous evening; he'd been living with Clark for the last two weeks. Jughead was going to miss Clark's stories about rooming with Joaquin, but it was a relief for all concerned - at least, it had been.

"Where's your go bag?" Brand looked around the tiny apartment.

Jughead was surprised when Clark pointed without hesitation to the tiny closet off of his dining area.

"You have one too? I thought only-," Jughead cut himself off. Brand had assembled a joint one for the two of them when they'd been living together, and somehow he'd gotten the impression that it was something that criminals did. Obviously his impression had been incorrect.

"You thought that only crazy conspiracy nuts have go bags?" Clark smirked. "Isn't that what you always call me, anyway? I'm not sure why you're surprised."

"Well, Brand always left the most important stuff out." Jughead gave Clark a knowing look and began pulling chargers from where he could see them in the studio apartment's outlets. "Get your laptop and phone, and any photo albums."

"Kid, knock it off." Brand shook his head at Jughead. He was pulling Clark's backpack out of the closet.

Clark's eyes were getting bigger. "Photo albums?"

"He survived a house fire last fall. Ignore him." Brand accepted the chargers Jughead had gathered, though, and put them in the backpack. "Do get your phone and laptop, and anything else you think you'll need for the next few days."

"How many days?" Clark asked Brand. He looked to Jughead then. "You _survived _a house fire? You were in an actual burning building?"

"No; I got out just before it burned. But the family photos didn't make it." Jughead gave him a meaningful look. "If I were you, I'd bring them, Clark."

"This is perfect timing," Brand mused to himself. "I should close on that one FP hates, huh, kid?"

"The one on our block, you mean?" Jughead grinned as he caught Brand's drift. "Totally."

"What are you talking about? What timing? Close on what?" Clark was becoming more agitated.

"I'm taking you into protective custody, Clark." Brand nodded firmly as he considered the plan. "And I'm buying a house. It passed inspection, but _someone _wasn't entirely sold on my buying into his particular block of Riverdale, so I've been holding off on finalizing stuff. The seller hasn't been thrilled about the back and forth, so you might even get a fruit basket out of this. You can help me get it cleaned up and furnished in exchange for room and board - and you'll have a whole lot more protection than you do living here."

"That's-," Clark's expression smoothed and he suddenly looked excited instead of fearful. "Really? You'd do that for me?"

"You bet. Just be warned; the house is kind of… it needs a little work. I'm serious about you earning your keep."

"Yes, sir." Clark looked around his studio apartment. "Let me grab some books, I guess."

"And this." Brand dropped a hand on a stand mixer that took up quite a bit of the counter space in the tiny kitchen.

"That came with the place. I'm not sure it's supposed to take, uh, field trips." Clark hesitated and then shrugged. "But I guess it's not going to do any good here."

"And we'll be cooking for one more." Brand hefted it off the counter. "Grab the attachments and let's go."

**00000**

Brand had known there was likely to be some pushback over the arrangement - particularly since it meant everyone being under one roof while he closed on the house he'd been eyeing -, so he sent Jones and the warrior queen to the kid's bedroom right away after they got back to the house with Clark.

"Agent Quinn, I'm sorry to cut the evening short-," Brand was making a valiant attempt to get rid of Sarah before starting that conversation with FP, but she was having none of it.

"You got a threatening note, Clark? Have you called the police? And what do you mean, Davies put you in _protective custody_? You do know that this-," Sarah gestured at the room at large, "-is not even close to what that phrase means, right?"

Clark nodded. "Agent Quinn, I know that this may seem unorthodox, but-,"

"Brandon," FP interrupted. "Go call Tom Keller. Sarah's right; we need to start a paper trail."

"Jones called him from the car. He'll be right over." Brand shot FP a look. "I'm not an idiot. I just didn't want to leave Clark there alone."

Sarah motioned toward Brand and FP. "Unorthodox is the right word for it, Clark. But if the police are coming and everyone's okay with this arrangement, then I guess it's fine. Special Agent Davies is protective of the people he cares about; you're lucky to be a part of his inner circle."

"Whoa! Stop the presses. Are you saying that we have your blessing on this?" Brand shook his head as if he were amazed. "Sarah Quinn, that just sets my mind at ease."

"Shut up, Brandon." Sarah smiled at him even as she cocked her head in mock irritation.

Clark looked over at FP. "Uh, Mr. Jones, sir. Is this really okay with you? I know I'd be imposing on you until Special Agent Davies finishes buying his new home."

"It's no imposition at all. I don't turn people out, Clark. If you did go home, I'd only worry about you," FP spoke sincerely. "You can bunk in with Brandon for now. I've got a cot you can use."

Brand turned to face FP then. "What?"

"I don't think we need anyone sleeping out here." FP waved a hand at the living room. "You brought him home; you get to room together. I'm certainly not putting him in with Jughead if he's receiving threats."

Clark frowned at the implication that he was still in such imminent danger that he needed to be separated from Jughead.

"Hey." FP walked over to Clark. "You're going to be fine. You work for the FBI, and Brandon's day job is literally to take care of this kind of thing. The bases are covered. Welcome to the family, Clark."

"Is that kind of like… a mob family?" Clark eyed FP nervously.

"I don't even want to know what they say about me at the RA, do I?" FP shot Brandon and Sarah a sidelong glance. "No. Not in any way like a mob family, Clark. But you'll be safe here. Want some dinner?"

Clark smiled weakly and shook his head. "I'm crashing your evening. I can just go set up the cot and read until the sheriff gets here."

"Want a crust of bread to go with that?" Brand smiled teasingly. "Come on. Don't insult your host; have one of FP's magic burgers. Jones made some dessert, too, and our master plan to play five-player board games can be changed for one night."

"Okay. Thanks." Clark seemed to perk up.

"So. Who wants to go break up the make-out session in Jones' room?" Brand asked with a smirk.

**00000**

"Hey." Jughead sat down on his bed and gestured for Betty to join him. He grinned when she gave him a flirtatious look.

"Hi, stranger." Betty sat down next to him and leaned into his shoulder. "Do you think Clark will be okay? Why do you think they needed to kick us out to discuss him?"

"Clark's fine now that he's here. Someone's trying to scare him, and I hate that he's a target for anything like that, but Brand will make sure he isn't in any danger." Jughead considered the situation from Betty's perspective and tried to come up with reassurances. "Remember when I had a police escort for a couple of days, after the credible threat? It's kind of like that. There's a period where everyone's super careful, but after that the odds are really low that anything will actually happen."

"Honestly, I mostly just remember you in the back of the cruiser," Betty admitted.

"Uh, yeah. That makes sense." Jughead flushed with embarrassment. "Everyone else probably remembers that too."

"After today, I can't believe Archie held you down. You've gotten really strong, and you're crazy good at Krav," Betty added. "Thanks for trying to teach me. I do want to get better at defending myself."

"I'm sorry about that too." Jughead winced at the memory of his body going into its instinctive threat response. "I was actually hoping it would be kind of… something we could do together. Sparring and training or whatever. I thought it might be fun."

"Well... maybe if we tried it again we could go really slowly." Betty shrugged against Jughead's shoulder and he draped an arm around her. "Then maybe your instincts would have time to settle, and you could override any impulses to fight back too hard."

Jughead turned his head toward Betty, resting his chin on her shoulder as he did so. "You think? It's possible that could work, but would you be up for trying that, even after what happened earlier?"

"I'm game to try if you are."

"Okay." Jughead turned his body toward Betty, and she quickly straightened her shoulders as she faced him. "Uh, give me one of your hands. I'll show you some of the easier holds and escapes first, and you can just get used to how it feels. Maybe if we stand up that will work better, too."

When FP knocked on Jughead's door a few minutes later, only realizing that it wasn't quite closed when it opened in the same motion, all three of them were startled.

"_Oh_. Um. Sorry? We're, uh, going to play a game and make another attempt on dessert." FP eyed the teens where they were standing in a tight embrace, Jughead's arms wrapped around Betty from behind her; their hands tangled awkwardly as they moved apart. "Jug, is that such a good idea? Are you... being safe?"

Both teens turned bright red.

"Uh, never mind." FP realized what he'd said and how it had sounded. "Just… let's save the training for when you're being supervised, Jughead. At least for now, until you're sure that you won't hurt anyone by accident."

"Okay. Fine." Jughead moved to close his bedroom door. "We'll be right out."

He and Betty collapsed into giggles as soon as his father had left.

"We're going _out _tomorrow. Somewhere else. Anywhere else," Jughead declared. "A real date."

"And then to the dance," Betty agreed. "It's a plan."

**00000**

"Are you planning to go to that dance tomorrow?" Fred Andrews sat across the kitchen island from Archie, watching him pick at his spaghetti and meatballs. "I heard that it's an off-campus mixer for the Southside and Northside highschoolers, and I'm not sure how I feel about that, but we can at least discuss it if you're interested."

Archie did not look up when he answered. "Veronica's running it with Alice, Dad. So yeah, I'm going. I'm even playing for part of it."

This was the first Fred had heard of any of that. "You are? Really?"

"And you are so surprised," Archie said flatly.

"No - I just would have made plans to go hear you. Is there still time for me to get in on this?"

It had made perfect sense that both Fred and Archie would have a tense recovery after everything that had happened at Southside High. What neither had expected was for them to end up in this odd, vaguely combative mode.

Fred was working incredibly long hours trying to resolve the fallout at Andrews Construction and cooperate with the remaining portions of the investigation and prosecution of those involved in the bombing. He was also trying to work with Riverdale High to improve their policies and security, and he regularly encouraged Archie to make his voice heard in both processes.

Archie, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with the logistical elements that were taking up seemingly every moment of his father's day, and yet he had discovered in himself a profound felt need to process the emotional fallout of everything he'd experienced and done that day - and the previous year.

"They're new songs. From my 'concept album.'" That had been the polarizing result of Archie's two weeks of ruminations: song after song, working through the events of the past year.

Fred thought it was a fine idea for Archie to use music to process his experiences privately, but he was very concerned about Archie playing songs in public in a manner that might in any way resemble what Alice's mother had done when she'd exploited both her daughter and Jughead by publishing a tell-all article that Alice had written.

"I have to run them by Brand first, anyway, to make sure that nothing's classified." Archie looked up at his father then, but his expression was dark. "So you might still get your wish and my songs will never see the light of day. But that's what I've been planning - and practicing. So."

At times like this, Fred wished Mary had not gone back to Chicago. She'd come back for a few days after the Southside High fiasco, but she really did need to see to her work responsibilities in person for a while. Fred got that. He just really missed having another perspective - and another voice at the table - at times like this.

"Look, Archie, I honestly don't know what I'm hoping for. But if Brandon and Jughead okay the songs, then I guess I can't really have any objections. And I'd still like to hear you play. What do you say?"

"I'll let you know once I hear what they say. I'm going over tomorrow afternoon."

"Okay." Fred left it at that.

At least Archie attacked his meatballs with renewed energy; signals like that were about as much as Fred could rely on for information right now.

**00000**

**And we're off! I'm planning to just let this one rip, and see where it goes. That should be fun! :-D As always, I love (love, love) reviews and notes of all kinds, and I appreciate your reading along even if you can't leave notes along the way. :)**

**I hope you're having a lovely weekend!**

**-Button**


	2. Chapter 2

**Woo-hoo, another chapter! :-D**

**Thank you so much for all of the encouragement as I take on this story. It is so appreciated, and I'm very glad folks seem to be enjoying so far!**

**Skyrider45, that is so exciting to hear about potential new writing on the way... :-D The workload is always the problem (food and bills and stuff get honorable mention, though ;), but a vacation in February sounds kind of perfect. Enjoy! Ending things is SO hard, yes. For me in particular, perhaps, though maybe it's just like this for everyone. It is easy to get attached. :) I'm excited for Betty to get more of a role in this story, too, and seeing how things play out for her and Agent Quinn! Thanks for the encouragement about the title (yay!) and Archie and music coming back. I love that part of his character, but it has been missing for a while in the show. What a great teaser for your writing! And yes, the spirit sometimes moves and those later scenes take up time and attention. I always enjoy it because then I can embed things in the current chapter that come together (like magic!) later... :-D**

**Living Lucid Dream, thanks so much for the wonderful reviews! I am so glad you're enjoying Clark's role (and I had to piece together the Joaquin bit as well, so I am glad that read as an elegant solution! I feel like a mini-story about their two weeks together would be fun... :-D), and I had so much fun just letting everyone relax and bond at the end of ST - in part just to underscore that Jug's outburst was ignoring some obvious dynamics around the house (they're trying!). But yeah, that conflict was coming and I'm not sure it's 100% resolved. And 'ominous' is the word! I am so, so glad you feel spoiled (as opposed to, say, 'inundated'? :-D), and I'm still shocked by how quickly/much I've written this past year. That's the number one reason I am nervous about saying this is the final story: it's become such a great outlet. We shall see what comes! Thank you so much for the feedback on ST standing alone. I have actually been thinking that even if it does, this one might need AWP at the very least... because we are going back to Toronto! And yes, the history and all help a great deal in understanding the strength of reactions when things happen. Well, I tried. :) Clark and Betty are definitely in position for fun arcs (yay!), and I am reassured that Archie playing and writing songs is making sense; he hasn't done that in a while in the show (or in five stories in the series, apart from a bit in DIAV), so that is great to hear! Therapy in public spaces might not be the best idea, though, I agree, so it's good he's running the songs by folks first. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"What time is the dance?" FP asked Brand. They were working together in the kitchen on Saturday morning, Brand making bacon and FP overseeing the waffle iron, while Jughead and Clark walked Trig together before a late breakfast.

"I don't know when it officially starts. We're going over early for 'moral support,'" Brand made a face. "This is really too much. The kid owes me big time."

"Oh, you didn't dream of one day being a chaperone for a highschool dance? You keep talking like Jug's your ward, and I have been willing to turn a blind eye as long as it's not upsetting him, but if the pressure's getting to be too much for you-,"

"Wow, FP. How many Riverdale High events have you chaperoned?" Brand turned to him, amused. "Let's hear the almighty fatherly number, and then we can commence with the casting of stones."

"I'm just saying, it's all... of a piece." FP raised an eyebrow at Brand. "Don't complain about getting some of what you've been angling for. That's not fair to anyone. I know you've drafted your live-in personal assistant to help, too, unless Clark's found a way to get out of going."

"So, what time are the Serpents coming over?" Brand asked with an overly innocent tone. It was a guess, but an educated one. "That _is _why you're confirming in triplicate that the house will be empty for a solid stretch of time, right?"

FP winced. "Keep your voice down. Who knows when they'll be back from playing Trigger Ball, and Jughead's been trying to overhear stuff ever since Alice told him about seeing me at the Wyrm."

"He has not; he's been read into the case now, and I think he's clear on your role." Brand gave him a skeptical look. "And if he was trying to overhear stuff, he'd be overhearing stuff. He's a grade-A sneak when he wants to be. I bet he's even figured out that the new SAC is trying to pin you down for interrogation. Sorry about that, by the way."

Brand had made his level best pitch for keeping FP on payroll for a few more months, since he was convinced that the Southside was still in some measure of turmoil and that FP might be useful if anything else came up. Also, dropping him from payroll and then picking him back up randomly would not be fair to FP - or cost-effective for the FBI.

Particularly once Brand finished coaching FP on playing some more hardball if the new SAC tried pulling that on him.

Nevertheless, despite Brand's best efforts, the SAC was working overtime on finding a time to meet with FP and discuss his role as asset. As far as Brand could tell, that was not a good sign.

"Maybe. I guess you're probably right. It's even possible that Jughead's actively trying to resist the urge to watch me - but now he's worrying about plans and details," FP amended. "Intentional or not, he's tracking what I'm doing on a daily basis. I think being read in may have made him even more nervous that I'm going to get hurt or disappear on him. Anyway, I'd just as soon keep him away from the Serpents."

"Inviting them over to the house makes perfect sense, then," Brand deadpanned. "Good plan."

"It's mostly the younger set. I'm planning to teach them some board games, keep it quiet and relaxed, and give them a safe place to be once in a while." FP shrugged. "There wasn't a good location in the Southside for what I have in mind. I'd like to make it regular, but I need to figure out how to keep Jug out of the mix."

Brand smirked. "Never gonna happen. I'll try to keep him out tonight, but you're throwing a competing party with the first Southside-Northside mixer? That's conspicuous."

FP froze.

"That literally never occurred to you, did it?" Brand laughed. "Look, I'll help you out this once, and I won't even ask for anything in return - because I don't like the Serpents. I'm with you on wanting the kid far away from them. But if you're going to keep a foot in socially, and not just as an FBI asset, then Jones is bound to find out."

Brand gave FP a serious look. "He's also not going to like you splitting time between him and them if he thinks that he could be a part of it. You need to think about that, and decide how you want to work it. Because, based on the deer-in-the-headlights response you had when Jones _did_ confront you about Alice Carter's Whyte Wyrm report, I'm gonna guess you haven't thought through what you're planning to tell him." Brand rubbed his eyes wearily at the memory.

"Those can be nights Trip spends at my place, once I close on the house, but you know he'll be hurt if you shut him out and start bonding with other kids around his age. And he'll be curious. And probably self-destructively motivated to get involved."

FP turned back to the waffle maker when it beeped, and he began spooning the first apple cinnamon waffle onto the iron. "I know."

"All right. Free pass tonight, but then we talk about this and make a real plan."

"Thanks, Brandon." FP sounded rueful, and Brand patted his shoulder.

"That's what I'm here for, old man. How is it that you're so good with so many people - usually good with Jones, for that matter - and yet you fall apart with him whenever the Serpents come up?"

"The Serpents have always been a minefield for me with Jughead," FP said. "I don't entirely know what to do about it at this point. But a plan would be good."

"We'll figure it out somehow," Brand agreed.

When FP's phone began buzzing, Brand frowned; it was possible that the SAC had finally found some space in her schedule.

**00000**

"Who's a good boy?" Clark was dangling part of a leftover waffle while Trig sat stock still and waited patiently. "Who's going to win the agility trials once we finish your training?"

"Attaboy, Trigger," Jughead praised his dog as he watched Clark.

"Trip, do not even _think _about entering that dog in anything competitive-,"

"He can enter Trigger if he wants. It's good to have goals they're working toward in his training," FP countermanded Brand's warning.

"I had a Border Collie that did well for years," Clark explained. "I think Trig has an aptitude. I'd be happy to help; it would be a lot of fun for me. I haven't spent much time with a dog since Boondoggle passed."

"Great name, right?" Jughead said, mostly to FP. He was pointedly ignoring Brand as long as his godfather was opposed to the plan. "Trig's gonna need a fancy name if he starts winning stuff."

"That's horses," Clark said, shaking his head. "Trigger's a fine name for these circuits. People will think you're referring to his speed, so it's a good strategy for psyching them out."

"Cool." Jughead motioned for Trigger to lie down and, when he dropped immediately to the floor, Clark fed him the rest of the waffle. "Hear that? You're already fancy enough, boy. You've got this."

"When is Andrews bringing his rock opera over?" Brand asked. "Does he really have _fourteen _songs?"

"That's what he said. In... about three hours or so, I think," Jughead looked over at the clock on the stove. "Clark, if he doesn't have classified stuff in the lyrics, you can hear it too."

"That's an hour of material if they're each four minutes long," Brand pointed out. "Nobody wants to sit through that much teenage angst on acoustic guitar."

"He's only unplugging for us, Brand. And Veronica said it's really good. She's been singing with him and I guess they recorded most of it in his garage over the last few days." Jughead shrugged. "It might not be that bad."

"Yeah. Because Veronica is the least biased person we know when it comes to Andrews."

"Archie's not a bad musician," FP interjected. "I'll sit in for some of it if that's allowed. What would he have written about that would be classified? We'd all have been read into it, right?"

"Eh, you'd think that, wouldn't you?" Brand sighed heavily. "Apparently one song is about Jones' nightmares, and that could mean anything."

"I'm really interested in hearing that one." Jughead grinned. "I might have to veto it from being performed, but it's definitely got me curious."

"Is the whole rock opera about you, Jug?" FP looked unsettled by that idea.

"It's not a rock opera; Brand just calls it that. And no, it's about everything that happened this past year, mostly from Archie's perspective." Jughead saw that his dad remained unconvinced and tried to repeat the explanation that Archie had given him. "I'm in it, but only metaphorically. It's not the story of what happened or anything."

"Huh. I'll definitely be sitting in for it then." FP folded his arms. "After everything with Alice-,"

"This is nothing like that." Jughead frowned; he knew that had been Mr. Andrews' objection as well, and the implication that he was exploiting his friends had upset Archie. "It's completely different. You'll see."

"Okay. I'll see." FP's tone was mild. "I've also got to meet with someone at the field office today. It's nothing serious; just paperwork. Do you want to go to the big library branch that's right across the road from there? I know you've been looking to get some of the books from your college reading list that aren't at our branch."

"Yeah, definitely. As long as we're back in time for Archie." Jughead looked up with interest. "Who are you meeting with?"

"It's nothing serious," FP repeated firmly, making it clear that he was not planning to share any more details. "They probably just want to dot i's and cross t's on firing me."

Jughead's brow knit.

"It's a good thing, Jughead. It means I did so well that they don't need me any longer." FP had known that Jughead felt conflicted about his father working with the FBI - but he suddenly wondered if his being let go would bother Jughead as well. "Anyway, there's nothing I can do about it that Brandon hasn't already tried."

"That's the truth," Brand offered, apparently also noticing Jughead's reaction. "It was a good run while it lasted, but the budget is what the budget is."

"I guess." Jughead still seemed dissatisfied, but willing to accept that his father and Brand were correct about the situation. "They're not going to find anyone better, though."

FP smiled to himself; that was awfully nice to hear.

**00000**

Jughead's vote of confidence was a nice memory to hold onto an hour later: FP could tell in a glance that Special Agent in Charge Aaditi Wilson was ready to dislike him.

Instead of simplifying the situation, though, this presented a conundrum; FP sometimes enjoyed living up to expectations and being well and truly disliked. Then again, he sometimes enjoyed taking expectations and turning them on their heads to see how people reacted.

He should probably avoid doing anything that might get Brandon or Jughead into trouble, though. FP gave her a polite nod as he took a seat in her office to begin the meeting that seemed both long overdue - and somehow premature at the same time.

"Why don't you get yourself some coffee and then let's cut to the chase, shall we?"

SAC Wilson was already sipping her own coffee. FP figured that put him at an advantage, since it represented at least a minor faux pas. He was not late for their meeting. FP thanked her and poured himself some coffee from the French press that she indicated in the office.

"So, from what I understand, you've primarily been working with Special Agent Brandon Davies, who lives with you and is your son's godfather. Your son is currently an intern at the RA where Davies is doing the majority of his work liaising from Toronto. Is that correct?"

This again.

"Yes. There seemed to be a game of 'hot potato' with my file when handlers were being assigned assets. And, for the record, Davies was assigned to the resident agency _after _Jug was slated to intern there." FP took a sip and was surprised by how good his coffee was.

It almost softened his irritation over having to explain this yet again.

"Someone thought that Davies would be a convenient handler for me since we already knew each other socially. I also got the impression that people were not exactly lining up for the job."

"I see. Well, I've reviewed some of the paperwork, and I got a few distinct impressions myself," Wilson countered frostily. "For example, it seems to me that some decisions about your role as an asset were made with Forsythe in mind."

FP raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking if having Davies as my handler allowed me to keep my son 'in mind'? Are you saying that's _unusual_?"

"The degree to which your son was taken into account is unusual."

"Huh. I think I'm going to need some examples." FP crossed his arms, though he kept his tone and expression neutral. This meeting was about to get real.

"You know, because my son is in the library right across the street," FP pointed out the window, "and just so you understand where I'm coming from, I'm a little distracted right now by wondering if I should have encouraged him to take a painkiller. He's been having intermittent bouts of nausea since being held hostage two weeks ago and spending that time without relief from the pain of extensive injuries - which he sustained in an anti-FBI crime that was directly related to my work as an asset. But please, enlighten me. In what way has my son benefited from special treatment?"

"Nobody used the words 'special treatment,' Mr. Jones."

"Well, then, maybe I need to hear a few more words, Special Agent Wilson."

FP took another sip of his coffee. At least he was enjoying that; otherwise, this meeting was shaping up to be a waste of time and breath.

"Let's... leave aside your son for a moment." Wilson looked unsettled - as though she had somehow not expected a teenager's father to have serious objections to him being hurt and his life being threatened.

FP suddenly wondered how recently she'd been promoted to the position of SAC; this might well be her first post in that capacity.

"That sounds like a very good idea." Not that FP was going to give an inch on the subject of Jughead.

"There's an issue with the reports. Some of the timeline seems to have been conflated." Wilson pulled out a file.

FP's eyes narrowed; breaking out files and reports seemed like an aggressive move to him. "Conflated?"

"According to this report, Davies sent you into the Southside late on Saturday night - just three weeks ago today. The unrest you were told to incite is described as moving toward rioting by early Sunday morning, and then there were violent incidents on Monday and Tuesday stemming directly from your actions at the- uh-,"

"Whyte Wyrm?" FP decided to save her the time of skimming the documents.

"Yes. The bar. Thank you." Wilson studied FP carefully as she continued. "The reports state that the bombing took place on Wednesday afternoon, as did the carjacking, but by _Wednesday night_ the bombing, hostage-taking, Serpent faction, missing person case, altercation in the parking lot of the RA, _and _the Riverdale High attack were all resolved - and suspects taken into custody."

"Oh, well of course when you put it that way I see the problem," FP's tone dripped sarcasm. "Any sign of efficiency in a government agency certainly warrants a full investigation."

"Please don't joke about this, Mr. Jones." SAC Wilson gave him a weary look before continuing to express her concerns.

Which were significant.

For instance, apparently Wilson also did not like that Andrews Construction would be collecting insurance payouts due to the sabotage and bombing - and that FP worked for Andrews Construction, was close personal friends with the owner, and had even had both Fred and Archie over for a movie marathon on the evening when the bombing was being set up.

It was only when FP pointed out that Jug and Archie had been spending that time recovering together after being attacked by Serpents at Riverdale High that she'd finally backed off on that line of questioning.

Honestly.

Eventually Wilson changed her approach and began to alternate between lecturing FP on procedure and reading aloud from the reports. She quizzed him on details, including quite a few topics that FP did not think had any bearing whatsoever on his role in events. Some of the story she asked him to repeat to her in reverse order. It was strange.

If he didn't know better, FP would have guessed that SAC Wilson had not done her homework before showing up at this meeting. That didn't make any sense, though, so he figured there was something she was getting at by leading him slowly and painstakingly through the documentation of decisions that had been made over the past few weeks.

Wilson finally paused for a long sip of her own cooling coffee.

"Should I stop you here?" FP interjected smoothly. "Because, to the best of my knowledge, nothing in those reports is falsified. Or _conflated_."

There was a long silence. FP sipped the excellent coffee again. Hopefully Jughead was locating his books without difficulty; this meeting was not likely to last a whole lot longer.

"Tell me, Mr. Jones. What would you do if you were tasked with managing the optics of this situation, and had evidence suggesting that everything in this file is - however improbable - accurate?" Wilson sipped her own coffee, placed it to the side, and folded her hands expectantly.

Well. FP guessed he had very little to lose at this point.

"I understand the optics, but I'd still keep Davies and my son working together. I assume you know their history; Brandon's his godfather _because _they're a good team, and not the other way around. It's also going to be worse optics for you to fire either of them, and if you keep them both on and try to separate them on the job, you're going to have to devote far too much manpower to keeping them in check."

FP shrugged in apology, since Wilson seemed taken aback by that characterization of the two. She didn't have to live with them - or even work in the same building -, but she'd learn that lesson quickly enough if they were given a reason to bring their elaborate codes and rituals into the workplace.

"I'd hire Clark full-time at the RA before someone else scoops him up, make Williams and Quinn partners and move them to the field office so that you can supervise them directly, give Phillips some come-to-Jesus marching orders, and I'd fire me."

Wilson blinked at that last part.

"The Southside's under control now, and I'm not useful to the FBI for anything else," FP explained. "I'd also give Davies a different office, and start communicating _with _him instead of keeping things adversarial; you've got to realize that's going to be nothing but embarrassing for the FBI if anyone else comes down from Toronto. I'd give him an office with space for an intern to have at least one of those little TV trays set up in a corner. That's assuming you want their best work more than you want their best behavior. Obviously."

"What else?" Wilson was unblinking and her focus was suddenly intense.

"Get better security on the RA's parking lot, because those cameras deterred nothing. Get control over the printing in the office before you're bankrupted by vaccine activists. Do you even _have _quarantine protocols or was that all made up?"

Wilson smiled; she'd heard that story already. "Let's hold off on some of this. I'll touch base with Davies and Phillips on Monday and discuss a few things. But congratulations, Mr. Jones: you've just bought yourself another two months on payroll, and a new handler."

FP looked at her sharply. This meeting was starting to seem like something very different from what he'd been led to believe, and he did not appreciate being jerked around.

"You'll be interfacing directly with me during that time, and we'll find out whether the Southside's really 'under control,' and whether you're truly no longer 'useful to the FBI,' as you claim."

Special Agent Wilson gestured triumphantly, as if she were revealing a winning hand in a poker game.

She was definitely new to the position.

"Huh. That's all very interesting. I'll consider it." FP drained his coffee cup and stood. "Thank you for the meeting. And the coffee."

Wilson's jaw dropped, though she recovered swiftly. "Can you give me your answer on Monday?"

"I'll leave you a message before I go to work." FP nodded. "One question for you, though. Would _you _take my son into account?"

"At the moment we're only discussing eight weeks, Mr. Jones. Am I likely to need to?"

That was a fair point. FP looked out the window again as he absorbed the unexpected turn that the meeting had taken.

"Probably not." FP cracked a small smile when he saw his son emerging from the library. "It looks like he's done at the library, though, and I should probably give him a hand."

Jughead was carrying a comically large stack of books and moving awkwardly toward his father's car.

"_That's_ Forsythe?" Wilson stood too, and moved closer to the window to get a better look. FP was not sure what had taken her by surprise; Jughead's bruising was finally disappearing, so he no longer turned heads.

"He actually goes by Jughead - or more often 'Jones' when he's at the RA. But yeah, that's my boy." FP watched as Jughead gave up on making it all the way to the car and chose a patch of grass instead. The teen settled in and opened one of his books. "Not what you expected?"

"Not even close." Wilson studied Jughead for a few moments. "You know what? I'd really like to meet him. If it wouldn't be an intrusion into your weekend."

"No intrusion." FP shrugged agreeably and led her out of the office. They made their way across the parking lot to the lawn of the library.

"Jughead, this is Special Agent Wilson." FP introduced the SAC before he began gathering up the library books his son had piled on the grass. "She's taking over for Special Agent Donn at the field office."

Jughead stood up and shook her hand, but his expression was guarded. "Did you fire my dad?"

Wilson laughed. "I see the family resemblance."

FP and Jughead exchanged glances.

"Neither of you pull your punches," Wilson elaborated. "It's a good thing. You'll have to ask your father about that, Forsythe, but it sounds like he'll at least be around for the RA's teambuilding."

"Like going to the amusement park?" Jughead nodded. "Yeah, we got tickets. Although I think Andrews Construction might be doing that too, so he might have gotten tickets either way. They've got a morale problem."

This was the first FP was hearing of that - the official identification of a 'morale problem' or the amusement park plan. Fred must be talking more to Archie than he was to his employees; FP would have to find out more from Jughead.

"Exactly like that. I didn't know that was officially part of the plan, though. Where is this amusement park?" Wilson looked very interested, and as her face lit up FP suddenly had reason to wonder if she was younger than he'd first guessed. She might even be closer to Brandon's age than his own.

Jughead began enthusiastically describing the park that he'd been going to with his classmates once a year for quite a while now. He'd missed Riverdale High's spring trip, thanks to everything that had happened with Brandon, and FP was looking forward to getting out with him - even though he wondered if Jughead's fractured ribs would be up to a day of roller coasters.

And then Wilson began giving Jughead her best pitch for making a trip to Cedar Point, the premier roller coaster park in the country.

"We'll have to see," FP jumped into the conversation while Jughead was enthusing over Wilson's descriptions of the coasters. "That would be next season at the earliest, Jug."

"We can plan ahead." Jughead shrugged.

"You're a junior in highschool, right? There are a whole lot of things you might have on your schedule by then, so maybe just keep it in the back pocket in case you're ever in the area," Wilson said, noticing that FP was reining in his son's enthusiasm. "But why don't you check in with your doctor this week about whether you can ride roller coasters with your injuries? It seems to me that you should be there along with the rest of the resident agency. And no guarantees, but I've done a full day of coasters with cracked ribs before. How much you can manage will depend on a lot of factors, including which ribs you fractured."

"How did you crack your ribs?"

"Oh, well, that's a story and a half. You probably have other things you need to do today, so I'll give you the short version…"

FP decided to load the library books into the car while Jughead and Wilson exchanged stories and pointed out which ribs they'd injured.

In another few minutes they'd probably be trading training techniques.

This had been a strange meeting and a frustrating one, but it was possibly turning around right now, in the eleventh hour.

Because somehow FP got the feeling that SAC Wilson was seeing what FP saw when he looked at Jughead. And anyone who took a shine to his boy so readily was probably all right.

He might even have to consider signing back on, come Monday.

Jughead had a few things to say later, in the car.

"It's too bad I have to hate her on principle."

FP raised an eyebrow at his son. "You shouldn't hate anyone on principle. That's a lazy way of disagreeing with someone."

"Including... genocidal dictators?"

"You only hate those _on principle_?"

"Never mind."

"Gladly." FP hid a smile behind a rueful shake of his head. Jughead was still learning to think before he spoke, and it was entertaining seeing him walk back occasional missteps.

"Well, I _disagree _with SAC Wilson about firing you."

"She didn't."

"What? Really?" Jughead was suddenly leaning forward eagerly. "You're still going to-,"

"I'm not necessarily doing anything, Jug. She didn't fire me; I didn't sign on for anything. I won't be talking to you about that decision when I've made it, either." FP shot Jughead a look to underscore his words before focusing on the road once again. "So. Are you going to have to like her on principle now?"

"Maybe." Jughead smirked. "Probably."

**00000**

"So I keep thinking maybe I should put 'Answering Screams' before 'Love Song, No Words,' because the contrast works well, but I also thought-,"

"Why in the world does 'Love Song, No Words' have lyrics?" Brand interrupted.

"It's inspired by Trigger and Jughead. They bonded without talking, but my song has lyrics. And it's not necessarily about a dog."

"It's still confusing. Go on."

"Anyway, I thought that maybe 'Confused, Not Disturbed' would work better there."

"Is that the one about-,"

"Me, Betty, and Ronnie while Jughead was in Toronto."

"How are all of these songs so good? Didn't you write them in, like, two weeks or something?" Clark asked. He was leaning against the wall and staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. "It's like a perfect album; they're all different, but they work together, and every one of them holds its own."

"Can you write the first review?" Archie grinned with delight. "Just make sure you mention 'Buddy Breathing.' The ballads always get overlooked in those reviews."

"That's not actually about the wreck diving story I told you, though," Jughead told Clark. "It's a metaphor for all our friendships this year."

"Exactly." Archie looked even more thrilled. "So it's not just me? This is making sense and it sounds like a real concept album? I've spent so much time alone with the songs that I feel like I've lost all perspective."

"It's an album all right," FP stated firmly, with an encouraging nod. "The style's not entirely to my tastes, but I think it's solid songwriting. The melodies are actually _doing _something."

"Thanks, FP. Are you all coming to the dance?" Archie asked eagerly. "They're way better with electric guitar - and with Veronica singing."

"I _had_ been planning-," Clark began, but Archie cut him off eagerly.

"Come on, Clark. I need you to write that review." Archie looked around the room, searching for a winning argument with which to persuade Clark. "Brand's coming, isn't he?"

Brand nodded. "Yep. I'm officially one of the adults who has to make sure you all play nice with the Southsiders. And Clark was actually trying to tell you that he is planning to go."

"Yeah. As long as it wouldn't be weird," Clark shrugged. "Is that all right with you, Jones?"

"Yeah, sure. It can't get a whole lot weirder than it already is, Clark, and I think this might be one for the record books. Archie's concept album's first live performance!" Jughead slapped Archie's shoulder proudly.

"Only three songs tonight. But yeah," Archie was still beaming. "It's going to be epic."

**00000**

**I think they're all in position now... :) I'll enjoy any and all notes as things pick up speed in the next chapter!**

**I hope you have a lovely weekend!**

**-Button**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three! Aaaand another week down! :)**

**Thanks so much for the review, Skyrider45 - I am really glad that FP's humor landed, and I'm so excited about the upcoming arcs. :-D And Cedar Point is awesome, yes; if people take nothing else from this fic, that will be a valuable nugget indeed. :-D You are so welcome! As the plot thickens, I'll enjoy hearing your thoughts... And I hope you had a good week!**

**Thank you for the lovely review, Living Lucid Dream! Clark remains super fun to write (I melt over the mental image of Boondoggle too! :), and I'm glad to hear that you're with FP on the training. :) Agent Wilson is likely to be around for a bit, yes, and I'll be interested in seeing how that plays out between her and FP (and Brand and Jughead!). Yay for a productive Archie getting to play at the dance, too! It should be an interesting ride... :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Alice was enjoying being at the center of all of the action; it was exhilarating, and she and Veronica had developed quite a few signals and a lot of shorthand over the last couple of weeks of working so closely together. They felt like a well-oiled machine, and at times it was almost as though they could read one another's minds - and predict the future.

Everything was coming together well, and the dance would officially begin in only thirty minutes. Jughead and Brand had arrived early, along with the FBI intern who looked like he should be a model for some high-end business attire company - and who was reportedly living in the Jones household for the time being, for reasons unknown.

Alice studied the intern for a few moments; he was definitely too old for her, but she'd be willing to dance with him.

Jughead was enthusiastically greeting Betty and seemed particularly energized for some reason.

Alice focused on answering all of the questions that the band leader was asking her, and then relaxed when he headed off to set up. They'd be having Archie 'open' for them, and the band had donated two sets that would add up to ninety minutes total. Alice was thrilled by how effectively that had cut down the DJ'ed portion of the event. This was a fairly legitimate dance now, even by her standards.

"How are you doing, Alice?" A woman paused to greet her warmly, though a little tentatively - which made sense. They didn't really know one another socially.

"I'm fantastic, Agent Quinn," Alice smiled tightly.

There had been a single FBI interview shortly after Alice's mother had sent out her daughter's unedited article to, well, the world. Agent Quinn had overseen the sit-down, and there had been no question in Alice's mind but that the agent had come into the interview feeling angry and intensely protective of Jughead.

Quinn had softened by the time she got the full story, but that was definitely her first (and perhaps lasting) impression: Alice was a loose cannon who had taken reckless aim at Agent Quinn's beloved Jughead.

That wasn't a new feeling, but that didn't mean Alice had to like it.

Jughead bounded over. Ah. Agent Quinn was probably the reason for the excessive energy, then.

"Agent Sarah, Brand's right over there." Jughead's grin was full of mischief. "Nice dress. Uh, both of you." Jughead turned his grin on Alice as well. "Sweet Pea and Gunnar are both coming, right?"

Alice sighed in exasperation, but her smile had a mind of its own and she felt it tug at her expression. "Probably. They both said that they were planning to."

"They're _doomed_. May the better man-,"

"Shut up, Jonas."

Jughead's grin only widened.

Which was a large part of why Alice did not give him fair warning that Agent Davies had spotted him with Agent Quinn, and that he was closing on them quickly.

Jughead startled violently when hands grabbed his shoulders from behind and yanked him toward an exit - and Alice's eyes widened when Davies blocked what looked like a dangerous countering blow from his godson without batting an eye.

Jughead visibly realized what was happening as he was hauled across the room, and then settled for an elbow thrust into Brand's ribs that the agent didn't even acknowledge.

"Uh, we'll be back before Archie's set." Jughead twisted in Brand's grip to call to Alice and Agent Quinn. "If we're not, call my dad and tell him I'm in mortal danger - and that he should bring the shotgun."

Brand shook him once, which seemed to serve the dual purpose of shutting Jughead up and making him grin as they continued out of the large ballroom that Alice and Veronica had reserved for the Northside-Southside mixer event.

"Those two," Agent Quinn pronounced as though it were a full sentence.

"No kidding," Alice agreed. "I take it Jughead's trying to get you and Agent Davies together?"

Agent Quinn's expression closed off and she simply shrugged.

Hmmm.

Alice smirked to herself as she checked her cellphone to make sure there were not any new fires that she needed to put out.

"It's good to see you, Alice," Agent Quinn began to move away; she seemed to want to pretend that they'd had a complete conversation. Alice could live with that.

"It's good to see you, too," Alice responded obediently. "I hope you have fun tonight."

Agent Quinn smirked at that as well, raising her eyebrows once - almost as if they were in on a joke together - and then she walked away to greet Betty and Archie.

"Is there more water?" Veronica approached Alice.

"Oh, yeah. Plenty of ice, too," Alice nodded, focusing gratefully on this new subject. "I'll show you where, and then you should go get ready."

It was nearly time to get this party started.

**00000**

"You invited Sarah." Brand steered Jughead into an empty room for this conversation. "You can't do things like that."

"What are you talking about?" Jughead looked at his godfather like he was crazy. "She came over for dinner, and that was _your _invitation. And she thought it might be nice to get some closure with the Southside case by coming and being a chaperone tonight, so it's not like I twisted her arm. And I'm not blind. You _like _her."

Brand sighed heavily, but resigned himself to taking on the conversation he'd hoped to avoid having. "I like talking to her and working with her, and I think she's got a lot on the ball. Too much, honestly."

Jughead's eyes narrowed. "You're rejecting her because she's too smart? That's stupid. Even though it sounds _exactly _like something you would do."

"_No_. I'm not putting her in an awkward position, because that's not fair to her," Brand corrected. "Agent Quinn's on a fast track with the FBI, and if anyone thinks she's getting entangled with me - especially if _she _starts to think that's what's going on - all of that will be screwed up for her."

Jughead crossed his arms, clearly skeptical of Brand's assessment.

"You've heard the term 'foreign national' kicked around the RA?" Brand asked.

"Well, yeah. But you're a dual-,"

"I'm a foreign national, Jones. She'd be barred from certain clearances automatically. That's not worth messing around with."

"Canada doesn't count, Brand."

"Wow. You've crossed the border more than once, so I'm pretty sure you know better than to say that."

"Can't you just… abdicate?"

Brand slapped himself on the forehead at Jughead's wording.

"And leave the throne to Trudeau? Blasphemy. You mean _renounce _my Canadian citizenship? Or establish my loyalty to the States, however that's done? I don't know, Jones, but the fact of the matter is that I work for a Canadian agency. I'm an international liaison; the FBI isn't signing my paychecks. So no, that's not currently an option."

"Well, maybe it could be if you got serious. And Agent Sarah doesn't seem to care-,"

"Have you noticed her attitude on the subject of you?" Brand smiled sadly, and Jughead felt his stomach clench uncomfortably. "She does care. My guess is she's trying to remind herself of all of my very, very significant issues. The odds would never have been great, even without work-related barriers, Jones. Sarah doesn't want me to raise her kids, and she does want kids."

Jughead blinked. "Whoa. She's mentioned kids already?"

"It goes without saying. She has to think about it while it's biologically an option, or while adoption isn't problematic because of her age. Quinn specializes in working with kidnapping survivors because she's that sort of person: nurturing and all of that. She'd always regret it if she never had a family."

"But if she never actually said any of that, then you're just guessing, Brand. You do that a lot and you're not always right. And besides, you'd be good at raising kids," Jughead said stubbornly. "You learned a lot this year. You're ready."

Brand laughed darkly. "Nobody who has a clue about what went down between me and you is ever going to take that position on the subject. And Sarah knows more than just about anyone, because she's got good instincts and worked so closely with you."

"My dad knows more than she does. And he let you move in with us." Jughead felt vaguely ill and increasingly anxious. "I don't think I said anything in debriefing that would mess things up for you. Not like that. And if I did, then maybe I could-,"

"No, no, no, kid. This is not your fault." Brand suddenly looked as though he felt queasy as well. "That's not what I'm saying at all. I'm saying that it's my fault. There are consequences for my actions, and this is just one of them for me: I can't date FBI agents who know a little too much about my sins. That's me getting off easy. You're still the number one reason why I'm in Riverdale discussing child-rearing and not... being shivved in a Canadian prison."

"_That_ was your backup plan?"

Brand ignored the joke, and instead clapped a hand over Jughead's left shoulder and made careful eye contact. "I don't blame you for my mistakes - or their consequences -, and I never will. You got that?"

"I mean... I guess it would be kind of twisted if you did," Jughead acknowledged, ducking his head. The tight feeling in his stomach began to ease up slightly. "But maybe Agent Quinn is just trying to sort out the fact that she _does _want to be with you, in spite of... you."

"You've been with Betty for too long." Brand shook his head with a small smile. "Leave Quinn alone. We're friends, we work well together, and that's more than I have any right to expect. I'm very happy with that. You can't be Parent Trapping us, okay?"

"I can't be… identical twins trying to reunite my divorced parents?" Jughead gave Brand a teasing look.

"I think you know what I mean."

"On one condition." Jughead studied Brand.

"What's that?"

"If it turns out that Agent Sarah wants to date you, then you have to respect that and let her make that decision for herself. You _have _to go out with her."

"That would not be legally enforceable in a contract, Jones." Brand rubbed the back of his neck.

"Good thing I'm not a contracts lawyer, then." Jughead smiled brightly. "Yes or no? I can probably come up with some really great ideas for getting you two alone togeth-,"

"Deal. You've got a deal. Now knock it off, and let's try to remember what professionalism looks like, eh? And riddle me this, killer: why the sudden obsession with pairing me off? You never tried anything like this in Toronto."

Jughead's eyes widened and he gave Brand an incredulous look. "What, you mean why didn't I try to fix you up with _Roy_? You literally never let me anywhere near a woman while we were living together there. It was like I was in one of those monasteries for fighter monks."

Brand paused to absorb that. He'd never thought about it, but it was probably true that Alice Carter was Jones' only female companion during those months. Although that still didn't answer his question. He waited expectantly.

"And Brand, you're still… _adjusting _to Riverdale. According to Kevin, you literally went out for a beer with Sheriff Keller last week and didn't have a beer. He mentioned it because it was so weird."

"There is nothing weird about that. It's not respectful to drink when I'm living with your father."

"When Dad isn't around? That doesn't even make sense. And you drink, Brand. I've seen you drink."

"Have you seen me drink since Jameson?" Brand raised his eyebrows significantly.

"No. But we were apart for a while, and then the only times I saw you were with my dad or when you were living with us."

"Well, I haven't done anything that would lower my inhibitions since the Toronto 'bust.' Do we need to have this conversation more fully? You're underage, so I've let it slide, and the painkillers we've already discussed-,"

"Oh." Jughead processed all of that. Brand didn't drink because he didn't want any chance of accidentally saying something that could get them in trouble with Rose. "No. Uh, I get it. We have to be extra careful. But you have to admit you've gotten kind of… grouchy."

"You think that's because I'm not drinking?"

"I think it's because my dad is basically your best friend now, and your favorite activity is arguing. For the record, Clark says it's not healthy for me to be exposed to constant conflict in the home."

"Clark is going to get himself shot."

"That's not funny, Brand. He just got a death threat - and we haven't even told him what we know about it."

"It's not meant to be funny. He's living in my bedroom and criticizing me? He'd better watch himself." Brand folded his arms. "Anyway, I'm making friends. It takes time, and don't forget that I just uprooted everything I had going for me two weeks ago." Brand saw Jughead's face fall slightly.

"Hey, that wasn't a knock on you. I traded up, kid. I have no regrets about being closer to you and FP, my - ahem - 'best friend.' I'm just pointing out that it's still stressful. And it's not your job to fix that. I'm getting a place, I invited Sarah to a game night, and I'll probably have another non-beer-drinking date with Tom Keller in the near future." Brand sighed theatrically. "I _might _even be able to complain a little less."

Jughead gave him a small smile.

"But you can do me a favor, too, and tell Clark that you like it when I argue with your father, since that's not likely to change - and don't think I haven't noticed you playing us off of each other like a pro."

"Sure. I'll try to convince him that it's male bonding or whatever." Jughead gave his godfather a mischievous look. "Bu-ut even if your grouchiness is just you adjusting after moving to a new country, Agent Sarah _did _come to the dance tonight knowing that you'd be here. It would be rude if you didn't dance with her even once. Unprofessional, even."

Brand tousled Jughead's hair as they turned to make their way back to the ballroom. "You could be right about that. We'll have to see how it goes. Oh, and one more thing. Are you the one who recruited Alice Cooper to chaperone?"

"Nope. I know better than to let her anywhere near you."

"Just checking." Brand gave Jughead a tight smile as they entered the large room reserved for the dance. "That should make this a fun evening."

Agent Quinn, Clark, Betty, and Mrs. Cooper were standing in a group, talking and laughing.

"You should at least rescue Clark. His life is already in danger without getting on Mrs. Cooper's bad list, and he wasn't really criticizing you. He's just… a low-conflict person. I think he's having a hard time getting used to the wolf pack."

"That's fair; we can be intense. And I like Clark. I care about his safety." Brand looked over at Alice Cooper once more. "But sometimes, Jones, it's every man for himself."

**00000**

After talking Brand down about Agent Sarah's presence at the mixer, Jughead was fully prepared to support Archie - and he understood that part of that meant taking up space on the dance floor, somewhere in the relative vicinity of the stage.

When Archie plugged in and playfully threw a few riffs at the crowd, though, Jughead found himself reacting to the volume of the amps and looking around nervously at the highschoolers who had pressed up behind him more enthusiastically than he'd expected.

Veronica was making her way onto the stage still, and she gave Archie an exaggerated frown that drew a laugh from the crowd as she got into position. Melody tapped a warning at him on the edge of one of her drums, too, and Archie waved an over-the-top apology to them before taking them both by surprise by launching straight into their first song.

It began with a long guitar riff that sounded far more powerful here than it had on an acoustic guitar earlier in the day. Apparently the drums only kicked in after a few measures, and Veronica was obviously startled but then relaxed - which made sense, since she didn't seem to have any vocals right away either.

Jughead smiled when Archie caught his eye and winked.

Archie had stage presence, that was for sure.

And the crowd was reacting. Wow. Jughead wasn't sure he should lean too heavily against the stage itself, but it might be the most self-protective move he could make as the crush of bodies made his instincts hum dangerously.

"Jonas," Alice was suddenly in his ear, "come dance. I'm not going to get a lot of time for fun tonight, so _please _don't make me work for it."

Jughead turned around, and was surprised to see that Alice was somehow managing to preserve a small amount of the dance floor around them both. She grabbed his hands and suddenly Jughead had his first clear idea of what 'leading' meant in a dancing context.

Even though he was pretty sure that _he _was supposed to be the one leading in this scenario.

"Loosen up, but keep your arms a little stiffer," Alice directed him. "There you go - you're doing it!"

Jughead couldn't help but laugh, knowing that he couldn't possibly be doing anything approaching the dance moves Alice was attempting to lead him through, but he could also feel his feet finding their place under him - and it seemed like this might be another activity for which his training might be an advantage.

"Betty!" Alice drew Betty into their dancing space, and suddenly Jughead was abandoned as the two girls began to dance together.

Pressing his back against the stage, Jughead relaxed and enjoyed watching Betty's expression of happy abandon as she danced gracefully with Alice.

"Can I cut in?" Gunnar had arrived and spoke into Jughead's ear.

"It's not up to me," Jughead answered. "Cut in at your own risk."

Gunnar took up position next to Jughead for a few moments to watch the girls, and just when Jughead assumed that would be the extent of his attempt, Gunnar moved smoothly between Betty and Alice and caught Alice's hands with a move that looked practiced - and perhaps like it might even be a real dance move.

Huh.

Jughead didn't have time to process his surprise before Betty had pivoted and pulled him back onto the dance floor. The song was crashing to an end, but when a second one started almost immediately, Jughead tried to replicate some of the movements that Alice had been leading him through.

Betty laughed with surprise, and they collided almost instantly, but some of the appeal of that was obvious when the crowd of teenagers did not afford them enough space to fully separate.

Jughead wrapped his arms closer around Betty as they danced and laughed, and they both seemed to be on the same page when that song ended: they moved together to get out of the crush and enjoy the third and final song of Archie's set from more of a distance.

"Hey, Sweet Pea's here." Betty pointed unnecessarily to the tall Serpent as he weaved through the crowd toward where Gunnar was leading Alice through an elaborate set of mirror-image steps that reversed and crossed dizzyingly to the fast tempo set by Archie, Melody, and Veronica.

"Where's Kevin?" Jughead craned his neck and was rewarded when he saw Kevin almost vibrating with excitement and trying to get their attention to direct it to Sweet Pea's progress on the dance floor. "Oh good; he's already seeing this."

"What are the odds that Sweet Pea knows how to dance like _that_?" Betty sounded deeply impressed by Gunnar and Alice.

"I'll go with zero." Jughead shrugged. "This should be interesting."

Alice and Gunnar had smoothly transitioned back into more traditional dance steps by the time Sweet Pea made it to their portion of the dance floor, so it was simple work for Sweet Pea to tap Gunnar and - to Jughead's surprise - Gunnar nodded agreeably and bowed out to let the Serpent take his place.

And Sweet Pea did, albeit clearly with only a novice grasp of the steps he led Alice through.

"He practiced. Sweet Pea learned to dance for Alice," Betty breathed.

"That is _so _romantic." Kevin's voice was unexpectedly close to them; he'd made swift progress through the crowded room. "Joaquin couldn't make it tonight. Even with Brand and my dad here-," Sheriff Keller had come along to supervise the event as well, and was currently standing with Brand and Mr. Andrews off to one side of the room, "-it would be too hard to keep him safe at an event like this. But I bet he would have learned some basics if he could have come."

Kevin had become incredibly protective of his 'friend' ("We're still working back up to 'boyfriend,'" Kevin liked to explain to anyone who inquired) and he spoke of Joaquin being in imminent danger with an unmistakable note of pride in his voice.

Kevin's version of events had started to sound a lot more like Joaquin had been central to a sting operation than embarking on a misguided attempt to make money - but, all things considered, Jughead figured that was probably a fine way of looking at things. After all, Joaquin was more than paying the price that many of the agents were in resolving the case, and he had certainly been instrumental in almost all of the arrests that had been made in relation to the bombing of Southside High.

In fact, the Serpents were looking somewhat ragged in their remnant form. Jughead wasn't sure what that meant - whether they were more dangerous, like a cornered animal, or if the changes meant that they would be less of a factor in local doings - but it was a relief knowing that his father was less likely to be brought in as an asset on anything dangerous.

It was also nice that his dad had not been fired yet. Jughead was immensely proud that FP had been instrumental in a bust, and that he'd been a valuable member of the team; his dad had also shared - very confidentially - that he'd been paid well enough that they could breathe easy about paying the bills for a good long while, especially since he continued working for Andrews Construction.

However, Jughead also would not mind seeing his father's FBI-related work lapse into a sinecure, if only because that course of events would mean the least possible threat to his safety.

All the same, it was very handy that FP still had the position for the time being and could come to the upcoming 'teambuilding' outing to the amusement park that Brand had set up for the resident agency - after his first pitch for working on the issues in the RA ('red teaming' exercises, which still sounded sketchy - if not dangerous - to Jughead) had been shot down.

Jughead was really looking forward to the day out with Betty and Archie and Veronica. The teens had all gotten tickets to go on the same day as the RA, and Mr. Andrews had been enthusiastic about finally taking a break from his insane schedule and spending the day with Archie and Jughead, and - most of all - with FP; they'd apparently loved visiting the park as teenagers.

The only challenge that Jughead could see at this point was Brand's insistence that Jughead would have to make it an early night because it was late October, and the Halloween events would be in full swing. Apparently the amusement park had a reputation for having one of the most intense haunted experiences in the country, and actors in costume roamed aggressively over much of the park's property once dusk fell.

Jughead knew that he could probably get his dad on his side by arguing that a few actors in costume would be no big deal after everything Jughead had experience with, and Brand was not wrong: the wolf pack had definitely slipped into their previous pattern of Brand being somewhat controlling and FP pushing back against him to give Jughead more autonomy - and Jughead really was getting better at playing them off of each other.

It still meant that Jughead needed to develop and implement a plan, though. He would have to start brainstorming.

When Archie finished the short set, Jughead joined Betty and Kevin - and a surprisingly vocal crowd - in cheering him.

"Thanks for coming out!" Archie waved to the group generally, and then pointed to his dad with a face-splitting grin. Mr. Andrews matched his grin and raised his hands so that Archie could see him clapping enthusiastically.

"He's _really _good," Betty yelled over the cheers. "Those songs are fantastic!"

"Totally. I'm really glad he's back to playing and songwriting." Jughead had tried not to take on too much guilt over everything that had happened in his absence, but he knew that Archie's hiatus from songwriting and playing had much to do with Jughead's disappearance the previous fall.

It was a relief to see one more thing go back to normal.

**00000**

Archie felt like he was still flying high from his brief performance hours earlier, and he could tell that Veronica was feeling much the same sort of adrenaline. What was strange was that Brand seemed to be feeling it, too, at least if the relative volume of the tables at Pop's was an accurate basis for judging.

"Dude, is that embarrassing?" Archie leaned across the table to address Jughead, who was curled contentedly around Betty (who was exulting with Veronica over the evening's success) while he talked to Alice - who was crowded into the booth on Betty's other side - about dancing.

"Is what embarrassing?" Jughead took the opportunity to disengage from his rapid back-and-forth with Alice, who seemed suspiciously like she might be avoiding talking solely to Gunnar (who had pulled up a chair at the end of their table, and had limited competition for Alice's attention since Sweet Pea had left the mixer surprisingly early), and he shoved several fries into his mouth.

"Uh, the fact that we have three full tables of teenagers and only, like, a table and a half of adults, but Brand is still the loudest person in the place?"

Jughead shook his head, opting not to answer aloud as he polished off a few more fries, and for some reason he even seemed pleased when he shot a glance over his shoulder toward the adults. They were sitting a discreet few tables away from the highschoolers, and Brand was telling a story and gesturing dramatically while Sheriff Keller interjected loud comments and they both periodically howled with laughter.

It looked like Clark was alternating between watching those two with stark envy - and taking advantage of the situation to entertain both Agent Quinn and Mrs. Cooper with (much) quieter stories of his own.

And Archie's dad was sitting right in the middle of all the action, shifting smoothly from one conversation to the other, but he caught Archie's eye and winked. Archie winked back, his grin feeling like it might well be permanent at this point.

When Agent Quinn got up and approached the jukebox, though, Jughead's expression changed to be a little more apprehensive. And then, when Agent Quinn extracted Brand from the booth where he was still cracking up with Tom Keller, and then Brand twirled her into a low dip, Archie had to laugh at Jughead's look of pure horror.

"Okay. I take it back. This is completely embarrassing." Jughead slipped down a little lower in the booth.

"Uh, _yeah_," Kevin leaned over from one of other booths they had commandeered for their post-dance diner outing. "I'd be embarrassed too if I had to have constant comparisons drawn between me and Brand. He actually knows how to dance."

Jughead gave Kevin a scathing look but then buried his face in his hands. "Not what I meant. Although yeah, that doesn't help."

Archie figured Jughead would probably survive even this severe level of mortification, so instead of trying to reassure him he turned to Veronica. "Do you want to dance too?"

"Um, I don't think there's really enough space-,"

Archie motioned impatiently when Clark got up as well and pulled Mrs. Cooper after him with a gallant flourish. "Come on. If Clark and _Betty's mom_ can manage to dance, then we definitely can."

Veronica shook her head again, laughing when Betty's body language suddenly echoed Jughead's, but then she pushed Archie's shoulder to signal her acquiescence and to urge him to get up from the booth.

Excellent.

"Don't even think about it," Jughead muttered to Betty from behind his hands.

"Don't worry; I wasn't," Betty replied in the same darkly horrified tone.

But Gunnar and Alice were already following, so Archie figured it would only be another minute or two before Jughead and Betty were up and dancing too. It was just that kind of a night.

**00000**

It was getting late, and FP was realizing that there had been more flaws in his plan than the one that Brandon had pointed out. For one thing, the house was definitely going to look like he'd thrown a get-together - if not a party -, because there was no way he'd have enough time to clean everything up before Jughead got home with Clark.

It was going well, though, so there was that.

"FP, what's second tiebreaker on this game? Fangs and I tied on the first tiebreaker, and the rules don't say anything about how to resolve that."

"Oooh, FP, can we spar downstairs? That's a sweet setup you've got."

"Where are the dog treats? I can't resist this little beggar for one more minute, and I don't want to feed him chips and get him sick."

FP looked up rules on his phone while he pulled out a few dog treats for Toni to feed to Trigger. "We can do some sparring another time. Let's keep it upstairs for tonight. The basement's nice, though, huh? One of the best things about the place. Um, who was first player? They lose second tiebreaker."

Fangs groaned loudly and Sweet Pea slapped him on the shoulder; he'd arrived late and overdressed, so FP assumed that he'd put in an appearance at the dance mixer thingy that Jughead was at.

Which was probably getting over soon.

"Hey, let's start thinking about wrapping it up," FP had to raise his voice over the immediate groans and protests. "We can do a longer night next time. Give me a week or two to figure it out, but you can count on it."

"You need a pool table, FP," Sweet Pea suggested. "I'll keep an eye out for a good one for you."

"We'll see," FP replied skeptically.

"Seriously, I think-,"

Sweet Pea's pitch was abruptly cut off when the house's front windows exploded in a series of sharp bangs and shattering glass.

FP had Sweet Pea down on the floor before his brain had fully caught up with what he knew from unfortunate experience:

"Get down! It's a drive-by. Everyone on the floor _now_!"

It was suddenly eerily quiet in the house, and FP let out a long, grateful breath. If anyone had been hit, there would surely be noise. He'd still confirm, though. "Is everyone okay? Don't get up yet. Just make sure nobody around you is hurt."

Responses came from around the room.

"We're fine, FP."

"I'm okay."

"I don't think anyone was hit. Sorry for bringing this here."

FP frowned at Fangs' words. "Bringing _what _here?"

Everyone was silent once more.

"Is something going on with the Serpents? If you know anything about what just-,"

"No, FP." Sweet Pea moved under his shielding arm. "It's just - a bunch of Serpents are here, and someone shoots out your windows. It's simple logic."

"No, it's not," FP countered. This was not common among the Serpents; in fact, he could not immediately recall the last time he'd even heard of a drive-by shooting occurring anywhere in Riverdale, aside from the isolated Southside High incident that Fred had related. It had been years.

FP could hear movement beginning around the room. "Don't get up yet. Let's give them a minute to get around the block if they're going to try for a second pass. I've got my phone; I'll call the sheriff. Everyone stay down."

There was a collective gasp in the room when a car did pull up, and headlights raked over the front of the house.

FP cursed and started to move - and found himself fighting off Sweet Pea when the teen tackled him back to the floor. Jughead, Clark, and Brandon must be home earlier than anticipated. They were walking up to the house without a second thought, totally exposed, and-

"_Get down_, kid." Brandon's voice suddenly rang out and the door slammed open. Jughead lost his footing as Brandon shoved him, and he landed heavily on Toni. He scrambled off of her and was looking around at the crowded room in shock, but at least he stayed on the floor. Trigger rushed to greet him, and Jughead immediately grabbed his fur to keep him from going outside to investigate.

"What's going on? Brand?" Jughead looked back and forth - from where Brandon was shoving Clark after Jughead and pulling out his sidearm, to where his father was lying on the floor of the living room, attempting to pry Sweet Pea off of his legs. "Dad? What-,"

"Your front windows are gone, Jones. Did this just happen, FP?" Brandon was now surveying the room since there did not seem to be an immediate threat outside of the house.

"Just now, yeah. You have impeccable timing, Brandon," FP said dryly. Sweet Pea let go of him and slid a few feet away on the wood floor.

"Huh. Call Keller, then. He might not even be back to his place yet. Let's get everyone home and start figuring this out. Are the Serpents warring with anyone?"

"No, Davies," Sweet Pea responded immediately. "No more than usual. Maybe even less than usual these days."

"All right; you can all get up." FP stood and brushed himself off. "Go straight home and let me know if you run into any trouble or if you hear anything at all about this."

"Sure thing, FP," Fangs seemed to answer for the group.

Jughead watched curiously as four or five other gang members slapped FP on the shoulder in acknowledgement - with respect - as they gathered their belongings and filed down the stairs to leave through the basement door.

In moments the Serpents were gone and FP was on the phone, explaining tersely to Sheriff Keller what had just occurred.

"I'm so sorry. This is because of me, isn't it?" Clark was still sitting on the floor next to Jughead, where Brand had shoved them into the house, and everyone turned to look at him. His expression was stricken as he took in the broken glass strewn across the hardwood floor. "Because of the threat?"

FP locked eyes with Brandon, who shrugged.

"I don't know, Clark. Maybe." Brandon offered Clark a hand up while FP did the same for Jughead. "Sheriff Keller will get the investigation started, and he knows all about the note. Let's not assume anything for now. You weren't even here, so it's possible that this had absolutely nothing to do with you. We're bringing the FBI in on this, too, so hang in there."

"You're still safe here." Jughead dropped a hand on Clark's shoulder. "Brand and my dad are _apparently_ holding secret gang meetings right under our noses-," Jughead gave FP a deeply concerned look and then glared at Brand in response to his godfather's conspicuous lack of surprise over finding the Serpents in the house, "-but they're still a crack team, and you know I've got your back. Sheriff Keller's great, too, and Trig will make sure nobody gets anywhere near us without a whole lot of warning."

Clark nodded gratefully. "I know. I really appreciate all of that, especially if there's still FBI work being done with the Southside Serpents. It can't be convenient having me here with all that going on. And I don't mean to be narcissistic or anything. It just seems like too much of a coincidence."

"It's fine that you're here." FP frowned. "We're going to look into it, Clark. Why don't you two go to Jughead's room until Keller gets here. Brandon and I can clean up the glass and figure out what to do to patch things up in here for the night."

Jughead's glare disappeared and he gave Brand an uneasy look, recognizing that his father was sending him and Clark where they would not be easy targets for a second round of bullets.

"Go, kid. I'll keep an eye on your dad. I don't think anybody's coming back at this point, and you two need to take a few deep breaths. We'll come get you once Keller's here."

"Okay." Jughead nodded slowly, only partially satisfied by his godfather's reassurances. "Come on, Clark. I'll show you some photos I took of Dad and Brand training."

"Hey, I told you to _delete-_," Brand stopped when the two disappeared into Jughead's room, and he couldn't help but smile. "Of course he's got backup files. Punk." Brand turned to FP. "Well, that ought to distract them and give you time to come up with what you want to tell Trip about the Serpents. For the record, I took those two out to the diner for a late-night meal and milkshakes after the dance, so I thought you had plenty of time to finish up here. This was _not_ the time for you to hold a Risk marathon."

FP merely shrugged, figuring that explaining he'd lost track of time was not going to add anything to the conversation.

"You'll probably be mostly off the hook once he fully processes that someone was shooting at you. But if you tell the kid that the Serpents were here because of FBI business, be warned: I'd give it at least fifty-fifty odds that he finds out the truth at work, and then you'll be in for a world of Jones angst that not even I can bail you out of." FP nodded this time, massaging his forehead, so Brand softened his tone. "Where'd the bullets end up? I lost an oven door once, so hopefully you're luckier than that."

"I don't know," FP answered before changing the subject back. "They might have been aiming at the Serpents. Maybe me. I just don't know."

"Clark's not wrong about the timing and his threat," Brand offered. "But you and I know two things: that threat was coming from Donn, and this isn't Donn's style."

"Which leaves us with…?"

"Keller might have some guesses." Brand shrugged. "I've got nothing."

**00000**

**Simple stories are a thing of the past... I hope you enjoyed! I also hope that you have a wonderful weekend. :) As always, while I start weaving all of these plotlines together, notes are loved and appreciated. :-D**

**Thank you for reading!**

**-Button**


	4. Chapter 4

**Why are the weeks so tiring this month? We made it through this last one, though! Happy weekend!**

**Thanks so much for the review, Living Lucid Dream! That is a good analysis of Brand/Agent Sarah at the moment, and it made me laugh when you pointed out that Brand equated training and raising children (that sounds like him). We'll see what happens! It is definitely complicated, but nice that he's thinking things through, however it shakes out. And yay for Gunnar getting to be in the story more! Another not-so-simple situation, but he's got an arc in him. :) I also think I should put out a call for for stories of everyone's experiences at haunted anythings, because that was amazing. :-D I laughed quite a bit, and I do think that you summed up Brand's concern to a T. :-D And yes, my Kevin love remains strong. Recently, when I wonder how and why the stories are getting long, I try to remember how many awesome characters exist and need space to be so awesome. That's a pretty good excuse (that has nothing to do with self-indulgent editing). ;) The shooting is definitely not an open-and-shut case, I agree. And FP's relationship with the Serpents going beyond 'the FBI pays me to hang out with them' is definitely going to lead to hot water, but I think that was probably always coming for him and Jug. They haven't put all of that to rest, even after ST. I'll look forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter! :)**

**Welcome, otakukitty345! That is amazing to hear, and I am so glad you're enjoying Brand's character and intend to keep on reading. :-D And oh man, the ideas for more stories may never end... so we'll see how it goes. :) Thank you so much for the note!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"So you were having a game night? With just the Serpents?" Jughead was helping Brand make baked oatmeal for breakfast on Sunday morning while he less than casually interrogated his father.

Sheriff Keller had come over the previous evening, and Brand's prediction that Jughead would not push for details when more pressing matters were at hand had proven accurate. Now that they'd all had a fitful night's sleep, however, the reprieve was obviously over.

So far FP's decision to opt for candor and to rely on Jughead's willingness to see the whole thing from his perspective seemed to be working, even though his matter-of-fact responses were clearly irritating his son.

In addition, the fact that this was not the first time they'd covered this ground suggested that Jughead was not yet entirely satisfied. Nobody was yelling, though, so both Brand and FP figured that was a promising improvement over the last time that the Serpents had come up unexpectedly.

"Yes, Jughead. I thought they could use a safe place and activity for an evening." FP was sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop, looking up companies that could replace their shattered windows. He and Brand had used duct tape and trash bags to slow the late October chill from coming into the house, but they needed to make a real repair right away.

"Can't you just call Mr. A?" Jughead gestured at the windows. "You are in the business, are you not?"

"I don't want to bother him." FP frowned.

"Are you fighting again?"

Clark had been standing in the middle of the kitchen, paging through a textbook while playing absently with Trigger, but he started to edge away as the conversation continued.

"No, we're not fighting, Jughead. Why would we be fighting?"

"I don't know. Why do you two ever fight?" Jughead's tone was disdainful. "Brand, we should add more cinnamon. This recipe is weak."

"More of the same doesn't always help. What about blackberries? Are any of those left?"

"Oooh, maybe." Jughead opened the fridge.

"We're not fighting," FP repeated. "He's just got a lot going on right now."

"He'll be mad if he finds out you didn't call him, Dad."

FP hesitated.

"You know I'm right," Jughead pressed. "Just call him. We won't tell him it was a drive-by shooting that happened while you were entertaining the Serpents. We'll just say that it was an attempt on Clark's life."

"Hey!" Clark tossed a tennis ball so that it bounced off of Jughead's shoulder.

"What? It's believable, and you'd get lots of sympathy." Jughead shrugged. "Who knows? It might even be true."

"Even so." Clark shook his head in disapproval.

"Hey, Brand?" Jughead's tone changed slightly as he leaned into his godfather's shoulder and looked up at him.

"No." Brand ruffled his hair. "Go set the table and cut it out with the puppy dog eyes."

"The _what_?" Jughead looked scandalized.

"You want something." Brand gave his godson a knowing look. "And I bet I know what. No dice. It's Sunday, so talk to your father."

FP watched this exchange with some confusion. "What?"

"The kid has something he wants to do, and he's mad at you so he's trying to recruit another playmate for whatever he has in mind." Brand gave Jughead another knowing look. "Am I close?"

"No," Jughead said defensively. "I was just going to invite you along. But if you're going to be like this-,"

"Shooting range?" Brand guessed.

"Clark, do _you _want to come?" Jughead turned to focus on the intern. "You know how to shoot, right?"

"Uh, I - well, Jones, maybe. I don't know-," Clark was looking nervously from FP to Brand as he tried to stutter out a noncommittal response that would keep him out of the conversation.

"Leave Clark here with me. Go with your dad and have fun," Brand ordered. "Want to train today, Clark? It seems like as good a time as any for it: you're receiving threats, and you just got dropped into the middle of a fairly violent household. We'll be training from time to time and you're welcome to join in, but I should really teach you some stuff first."

Clark lit up with relief and excitement. "Yes, sir!"

Jughead frowned at Brand, even though he recognized - and appreciated - that his godfather was attempting to respond to what he'd been told about Clark's reaction to the ongoing tension in the household. "I thought you wanted to spend 'quality time' with me."

"We're baking together right now. I went to your school dance last night. We're going to an amusement park later this week. Do you even hear yourself, kid? Let someone else play with your godfather for a few hours." Brand began folding blackberries into the oatmeal mixture. "FP, are you up for a trip to the range with your offspring?"

"Jug?" FP asked cautiously, not sure that he'd followed everything that had just happened in the conversation.

"Yeah, we can go, Dad." Jughead crossed his arms. "You know, unless you want to pick up a few other people on the way."

Ah. FP looked over at Brand, whose expression was projecting 'I told you so' as clearly as a lit marquee.

"Are you... _jealous_, Jughead?" FP asked the question in all seriousness, so he wasn't sure why Brand coughed loudly and made a slashing gesture across his throat - or why Jughead was suddenly glowering and turning away from him to focus on the baking, even though the pan was clearly ready for the oven at this point. "You know that it's totally different spending time with you, from-,"

"FP, for all our sakes, please stop digging that hole any deeper. Just take Jones shooting." Brand was rubbing his eyes and fighting laughter now. "And a word of advice: don't go downrange of the kid for a while."

Jughead swatted Brand's arm irritably, and was ready for his godfather when Brand jerked to retaliate.

"Nice block." Brand watched Jughead for any sign of a follow-up attack. "Are we done? Because we can take this downstairs."

Clark inched further out of the kitchen.

"We're done." Jughead turned and started carrying plates to the table. "No fighting while I'm setting the table, remember? Not that _everyone _feels bound by the ground rules of the household."

FP ran a hand through his hair. It seemed like he wasn't going to be able to win this morning, so he should probably just give in and call Fred already to ask for his recommendation about the windows. And then go to the range with Jughead and see if he could clear the air.

Fun times.

**00000**

"I hear you ladies had quite the triumph last night," Hermione Lodge sipped her coffee, but that did nothing to hide her proud smile. "It's no small thing to get the Northsiders and Southsiders into one room, even for something fun, and to have it go smoothly - and from what I heard, it was an _event_."

"You heard correctly. It really could not have gone better," Veronica declared with a smile. "Alice managed the lion's share of the troubleshooting since I was so busy with Archie and the performance, and she pulled it all off without a hitch."

Alice wasn't sure whether it would be more polite to be effusive about the event and their shared credit, or to downplay her role more modestly, so she tried to split the difference by nodding self-effacingly while smiling gratefully. "Veronica's performance with Archie and Melody was amazing, too. If anyone has footage, you should check it out, Hermione."

"Do you think they might?" Hermione looked very interested in that idea. "A little bird told me that you might have an encore performance coming up soon as well, so I'll definitely be rearranging my commitments to come see you sing."

Aha; the 'little bird' source of information on all counts must be Fred Andrews. Alice knew that there had been a lot of long hours for everyone on the administrative side at Andrew Construction, working through insurance and court case details, and it was not surprising in any way that social details made their way to Hermione quickly as well.

"There are no guarantees yet," Veronica cautioned, "but Archie thinks he'll hear more about that today. It sounded promising."

"Well, I for one think you've got it in the bag." This time Alice was entirely sure of what she wanted to say on the topic. "You were fantastic."

"There are a few pieces we'd have to figure out," Veronica raised one shoulder, but did not seem overly concerned by whatever those potential roadblocks might be. "I think Archie has some ideas for how to work it, though. He's taken on all of the logistics, which is a big step for him. And kind of a relief; I'm ready for a break from planning."

"We do need to start planning the next mixer, though," Alice reminded her with a smile. "Do you want me to take point on brainstorming ideas?"

Veronica looked surprised and gratified. "Absolutely. That would be a huge help, Alice; thanks. As long as you won't be too busy sorting out… other things." Veronica gave Alice a meaningful look and a sly smile.

"Oh, no. Not you too."

"Oh, it is _not _just me. That was majorly public." Veronica's words were teasing, but she looked a little uneasy when Alice's response was not immediately positive. "Sorry; should I not have brought it up?"

Hermione leaned forward slightly and was obviously curious, but to her credit she did not press - or even inquire.

Alice had come to really respect and admire Veronica's mother, particularly in moments such as these when Hermione exuded class and restraint, but was still warm and present. It was a fine line to walk, but once Alice had adjusted more fully to the household she'd begun to notice and appreciate how much time and effort Hermione devoted to managing the balancing act with both Veronica and Alice.

So, what the heck: "There are these two guys, Hermione," Alice confessed. "One I like, but he's possibly got even more baggage than I do, which is really saying something. The other I…" Alice wasn't sure what the right wording was, "probably _could _like? But I don't know him as well, and the two of them are pretty much polar opposites and sworn enemies, so getting to know him is…"

Wow. Saying any of that aloud made it sound so much more complicated than it had seemed in her head even just moments ago. All of Alice's conflicted, confused feelings suddenly made a lot more sense when the situation was laid out so starkly.

Hermione was making a deeply sympathetic face, too, so it wasn't just Alice having that reaction.

"It's a Southside Serpent and a non-Serpent Southsider whose uncle was literally _murdered _by a Serpent, like, a million years ago." Veronica had a knack for cutting to the heart of any issue. "So Alice would normally just get to know both of them and make a decision, and they _have_ been remarkably civil all things considered, but the tension is just… there. All the time. And good luck sorting out what is tension that's working its way toward a rumble - or whatever those boys do when they're not being supervised - and what tension is the _good _kind."

"Basically." Alice had to smile; counterintuitively, Veronica's frank insights on how complicated it was served to make the whole situation clearer in her own mind. "And, because I already know that I like Sweet Pea - the Serpent -, that makes it a challenge to even get to know Gunnar at all, since it's so messy. I'm not looking to mess anything up, or make it dramatic for no reason."

"Except Sweet Pea bailed way early last night and Gunnar was _very _attentive in his absence, so now everyone knows that there's competition," Veronica finished the story.

"Oh, Alice. That really does sound messy," Hermione's sympathy was so sincere that Alice wondered if she'd ever experienced a similar situation. "I... would not presume to advise you. Except - just the _tiniest _voice of experience - to suggest that you do find a way to get to know both. Alternatives to dating a Southside Serpent are never a bad thing. In fact, it seems like you might already agree with me on that."

Alice figured that was not a bad way of saying it. And it was a relief getting Hermione's input, hesitant as she was to give it. Alice had come to appreciate Jughead's friendship immensely over the past eight months or so, but she had always preferred girl talk for this reason: analysis could sometimes lead to overthinking and unnecessary problems, but it could just as often yield a second set of perspectives and opinions that helped her to cut through all of the mess that seemed permanently to reside in her own head.

"Yeah, that's more or less where I'm at. While the Serpents are going through a lot of changes, and I don't want to condemn them out of hand, I-," Alice felt her stomach drop as the words came to her. "I guess I never want to end up in the position my mother was in."

There it was.

Veronica gave her a supportive look, and Hermione didn't so much as blink at the mention of her parents, which was a relief. But when breakfast was a whole lot quieter after that declaration, Alice also appreciated the respectful space.

This was heavy stuff, and all of the fun times in the world were not going to erase the reality she lived with. And suddenly, for the first time in months, Alice wondered what the process might be for visiting her parents in prison.

Maybe it was time to start moving forward, at least with that first step.

**00000**

Jughead was not entirely sure why his dad didn't understand how annoying it was to come home and find the house full of people - and his father secretly hanging out with the Serpents.

They'd almost all looked like they were around his age, which actually bugged him most of all - and that part confused Jughead. If it had been one of the bikers who had threatened him, or one of the Serpents he'd fought in the back of the van after the carjacking, that would objectively have been worse.

But after years of losing out again and again to the Serpents, of seeing FP walk away from him and their life together to be with his chosen family - his gang -, there was something viscerally painful about having his dad do that now. In their new house. And with kids from his own highschool, no less.

And so Jughead stared out the window of the car, trying to wrap his head around what was bothering him so much, while FP tried to make small talk on the way to the shooting range.

"We're going to have to make a plan for the amusement park, because I'd like to spend at least some of the day with you, Jug." FP was splitting his focus between driving and eyeing Jughead. "It doesn't have to be a big chunk of time, even though Brandon should be kept busy with everyone from the RA. I know Betty will be there, and Fred's already got big plans for what he wants to do. But I haven't gone with you before, and I thought it might be fun to-,"

"You know what? Don't stress yourself, Dad. Just take... Joaquin." Jughead heard his own petulant tone and wanted to cringe. Instead of meeting his dad's eyes and taking back his words, though, he doubled down and tried to sound more angry and less sulky: "Or Sweet Pea or Fangs, or whoever else you think would be more your speed."

"I'm not looking to spend time with someone 'my speed,' whatever you mean by that." FP frowned. "I thought you might be interested in spending some 'quality time' with me, and not just with Brandon. Look, I know you're upset that I didn't tell you about last night's plan, but I only wanted-,"

"I'm not." Jughead tried to form his conflicting thoughts into some kind of a unified perspective that would make sense to FP. And to himself. "I just… didn't know that you wanted to spend time with them. Without me. It's fine; I get it. I'm - I don't know, different from you. And from them. You and I don't really have a whole lot in common."

"Yes, we do." FP's strenuous objection was immediate.

"Like what?" Jughead laughed bitterly. "I don't drink, I don't even know how to ride a motorcycle, and I'm not in your gang. I don't like loud music anymore and I suck at pool. I like to read and write and cook, and you don't. Even my sense of humor's all wrong."

"Hey. You're a funny kid. And you seem to forget that I don't drink either. And I read. I can cook." FP pulled into the parking lot of the shooting range and began marshaling his own list. "We both work with the FBI, and we've both worked with Andrews Construction. We have a lot of other experiences in common, too - not the least of which is living with that godfather of yours, if you want to talk about someone who truly _does _have a sense of humor that's all wrong."

FP looked over to see if Jughead cracked a smile at that, but his son's expression did not waver.

"You're tough and stubborn, like your old man. I can't help it that you're a whole lot smarter than I am, and that I want better for you than to fall in with some people that - you got me here, I'll admit - I want to see turn out all right. I want them to get out of the Southside every once in a while and see other ways of living. But I don't want you to get mixed up in any of that. Never again. You're too important to me, Jughead."

Jughead wrapped his arms around his midsection and looked away.

"You feeling all right?" FP parked and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Need a pill? I know you've been trying to get off of those, but if you're hurting-,"

"I haven't needed a pill in almost a week." Jughead scoffed at the idea and turned to face FP again. "Are you even paying attention? Brand knows. He's been, like, counting my pills to make sure I don't get hooked."

"Well, maybe that's because I trust you a little more than he does." FP wasn't sure that his sharp reply was a wise gambit with Jughead in his current mood, but having Brandon comparisons thrown in his face was always more irritating than it should be. "Maybe I don't monitor you as closely because I operate from the assumption that you've got things under control."

"Is _that _how you justify things?" Jughead wasn't even sure what he meant as he spat the words at his father. Brand's angry rant about him dredging up ancient history whenever he got upset flashed through his mind, and suddenly it seemed important to make sure that he wasn't doing that now. "I don't mean - um, I only mean last night. Not… anything else."

FP opened his car door and climbed out wearily, a bone-deep sadness suddenly radiating from his posture. "Sure you do, Jug. And it's allowed. I should have been there with you a lot more for a lot of years."

"_No_. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm not even sure why I'm so mad." Jughead climbed out quickly after his dad. The conversation had somehow reversed to him trying to reassure his father, and for some reason that stung as well.

"I didn't mean anything other than just… you didn't tell me what was going on. The first I knew of your game night was when I got thrown on top of Toni, there were bullet holes and broken windows, and everyone was staring at me - and they all thought I _knew _they'd be there. Because they couldn't possibly realize that they know my dad better than I do."

"No, they don't." FP spoke quickly, but he was clearly turning over the idea in his mind with a troubled expression.

"Are you sure? Because I'm not." Jughead gave his father a challenging look and then turned to lead FP into the building.

Maybe the shooting range hadn't been a good idea, Jughead reflected when he heard shots being fired and his first instinct was to flinch. Or maybe this would help him to calm down and reacclimate to the safe use of firearms.

Jughead pushed the heavy outer door to the building open, holding it for FP without looking back at his father.

A moment later, when FP was barreling into him and shoving him further into the building, Jughead's first thought was of déjà vu from the night before.

Only his dad's aim sucked, and the outer door swung back too quickly and cracked sickeningly against something hard.

Then Jughead was grimacing and wiping off whatever his dad had smeared across the side of his face while grabbing him in a bear hug from behind.

FP pushed Jughead down so that he was a smaller target and hustled him the rest of the way through the second set of doors into the range.

"What are you-," Jughead found himself staring in shock at a hand that was blood-red from where he'd wiped it across his own face, and it started to click. "You're _bleeding_."

Jughead twisted in his father's grip to look at him.

"I... don't think they were aiming for Clark last night, Jughead." FP sat down heavily on the floor and leaned against the wall. Blood was streaming down the side of his head.

A man behind the counter was already on the phone, and another range employee dashed over to see how badly FP was hurt.

"Did someone _shoot _you?" Jughead heard himself getting frantic. "Is it bad?"

FP released Jughead so that he could clamp his right hand over his left bicep. "I can't tell. I hit my head coming through the door, so maybe that's what's bleeding all over. It might just be a graze. It hurts, but that doesn't mean much."

Jughead fumbled for his phone.

"The cops are already coming. And an ambulance." The employee was still on the phone, but he nodded to Jughead and then waved a box at him. When he was sure that he had Jughead's attention, he tossed it to him. "First aid. Try to stop the bleeding from his head first. If his arm is bad, don't do anything crazy like tourniquet him. Stephanie will help, and I'll take a look in a minute."

Jughead opened the box gratefully. "Can you get your jacket off, Dad?"

FP was wearing a leather jacket that he'd picked up for when he took his bike out and didn't want to wear his Serpents gear.

"Yeah, sure, but give me a second, Jug. I'm a little dizzy, so-,"

"Dad," Jughead's voice was agonized. "Stay with me. Please. I'm-,"

"I said I'm dizzy. Not dying." FP smiled weakly. "If I hadn't hit my head on the door, I might not even be that. Have you found something in there that you can hold against my head? You're going to need to press down real hard, boy."

"Yeah." Jughead held up a thick bandage from the first aid kit. He gingerly lined it up over the large laceration on the side of FP's head.

"You're gonna have to press down a lot harder than that. You want to stop the bleeding, not just mop up the blood."

Jughead pushed harder, and when his father screwed his eyes shut in pain he winced sympathetically. "Better?"

"Good. Hold that with both hands. Stephanie, can you help me with my jacket and see what's going on under there?" FP addressed the employee who had come over to assist them.

The woman nodded, even though FP's eyes were closed, and she began to work the leather jacket off of his shoulders.

The man behind the counter had been joined by a number of other people - some who worked there and some who didn't. It suddenly occurred to Jughead that he had no idea who had fired the shots, which direction - or distance - they'd been coming from, or whether there might be someone around right at this very moment, looking for an opportunity to finish the job. He angled his body so that he was almost completely blocking his father from view.

The woman got the jacket off and slid FP's T-shirt sleeve up. His arm was bleeding, but it did look like a graze.

"It doesn't look too bad." Jughead realized he was releasing the pressure on his dad's head in his relief, and he quickly focused on his job again.

"Your jacket will need a good cleaning, but it's got a real obvious bullet hole. Sweet." Stephanie was clearly trying to cheer them up, and FP smiled appreciatively without opening his eyes.

"You still doing okay, Dad?" Jughead moved a little closer to him.

"I'm better now that I know it's my hard head doing all the bleeding, yeah." FP opened his eyes and squinted painfully at Jughead. "Once the ambulance is here and someone takes over for you, call Brandon. I want him with you before we leave the building. Wash my blood off your face before he gets here, though; you look like you're the one who's hurt and I don't need Brandon going off half-cocked about that."

Jughead nodded silently.

"I can call someone for you." Stephanie was still crouching beside them, wiping up the much-slower bleeding from FP's arm. "Got a number, or do I need to use your cell?"

Jughead rattled off Brand's number, and was grateful when the woman simply dialed it and then held her phone up to his right ear.

"Brand, you need to come to the range." Jughead figured his godfather would figure out who was calling quickly enough. "Dad's been shot."

"Wow, Trip. I was only kidding about him not going downrange from-,"

"I'm trying to stop the bleeding. Come quick."

"On my way, kid." The phone went dead.

**00000**

Brand was fast, and arrived only just behind the ambulance - which was helpful, because FP was refusing to let Jughead leave the building until his godfather arrived.

"Dad, you have to go, and I'm coming with you. There's police here; nothing will-,"

"If it was a sniper, we have no idea if you were the target and I got in the way." FP had come up with a few new theories in the interim. "Brandon will put his thick skull and massive ego between you and any danger, and _then _you can leave the building. Not before."

When Brand appeared just in time to hear FP's words, both of the Joneses were relieved. Brand didn't quite knock the paramedic out of the way, but that was only because the man who had taken over for Jughead made space in a hurry for him to confirm that FP was stable.

"A _headshot_? Huh. You are one lucky guy, FP. And if my ego could stop bullets, the world would be a very safe place." Despite the joke, Brand seemed to need a moment to collect himself.

"It wasn't a headshot, Brandon. I cracked my head open on the door. My arm was just barely grazed." FP reached to pat Brand's shoulder reassuringly with his uninjured right arm. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course I came. And I'm pretty sure that nobody's shooting at Jones." Brand frowned as he thought through the implications of this attack and the previous evening's shooting. "Although you two resemble each other enough that we're not taking chances on an accidental assassination either. Can't anyone get that ambulance a little closer to the doors? I'm not liking this setup."

Brand saw Jughead react to his words and reached for him. The teen accepted an arm around his shoulders since his godfather made no attempt to move him away from where he was still crouched by his dad's side.

"He's going to be okay, Jones. We'll make sure of it. Do you think someone put out a hit on you, FP?" Brand began speculating. "If that is the case, we're lucky they seem to have gotten stormtroopers straight off of the death star, huh, kid?"

Jughead glared in reply and started to shrug Brand's arm off of himself.

"Hey; I'm taking this seriously." Brand tightened his grip on Jughead. "But you need to stay calm so that we don't end up with another patient. We're not going to let anyone get a second clear shot at your dad."

"Third," Jughead corrected him darkly.

"Or a third," Brand conceded the point without argument.

"A hit, Brandon? Why would anyone put a hit out on me?" FP made a face. The paramedics lifted him onto a gurney for transport. "This has to be connected to last night, though. We should run ballistics, and-,"

"_We_?" Brand laughed. "The cops will do their thing, FP. I'll have to ask at the RA about whether I'm even allowed to assist, although that's probably just a matter of getting it cleared. You are going to the hospital, and Jones is going to stay there with you. Clark's in my car-,"

Jughead gave him a suspicious look and cleared his throat.

"Clark is waiting in _Jones' _car, which I have _borrowed_, and he and I will oversee things once you two are situated and comfortable at Riverdale General."

"Call Agent Sarah too," Jughead suggested.

"Agent _Quinn _will want to help, yes," Brand agreed and corrected his godson in one breath. "I bet you'll even get some of those homemade eclairs you were angling for the other night, FP."

FP smiled at that thought as he was wheeled through the doors. "Hey, is that-," he pointed out something on the outer door as they exited the building.

"Now that is disgusting," Brand made a face at the chunk of scalp and hair that FP had left behind on the metal door.

Jughead was making an even more pained face.

"Oh man, don't look, Jones. Come on, up and in with your father. I'll meet you at the hospital." Brand wrapped his arms protectively around Jughead to bring him the few feet from door to ambulance behind FP's gurney, which was smoothly hefted into the back of the ambulance.

Brand hoisted Jughead up as well, ignoring the looks he got as he did so - the most scathing coming from Jughead himself. "Give me a break. You scared me half to death with that call, and I may never come down from the adrenaline."

Jughead grimaced more than smiled, and Brand patted his arm once before getting clear of the doors.

**00000**

Betty watched Agent Quinn yet again demonstrate a secure stance and a few basic tricks for posture and balance.

It seemed like they might need the full few weeks to work up to anything exciting.

"Mastering these basics will pay off sooner than you can imagine. But don't worry; I'll teach you some fun things today so you have more to practice this week." Agent Quinn could apparently read minds, too.

They continued to train together for another hour, and Betty felt herself warm up - and then began to feel herself sweating as her muscles protested against the unfamiliar movements. She ran regularly and considered herself an athlete, but this was one more reminder not only that every sport and activity brought something a little different to the table, but also of how much she had to learn about Jughead's life with Brand.

This seemed like a window into what it had felt like for Jughead during those first few months of learning Krav.

Except that somehow it seemed unlikely that Brand had spent much time on proper stance or balance.

But they'd get there, and maybe Betty would even find that she had an advantage over Jughead because of this mastery of the basics.

"You are very good at mimicking movement; that's excellent work, Betty," Agent Quinn praised her as they stretched at the end of their time training together. "I'm going to send you some videos this week, too, so you can see some variations, and maybe next week I can teach you some tricks that will surprise Jughead."

"That sounds good." Betty grinned. This was more like it.

"Oh, speak of the devil," Agent Quinn picked up her phone when it began buzzing. "It's Brand. He probably wants to spy on our session. Same time next week?"

"Absolutely." Betty nodded and mouthed her thanks to Agent Quinn as she turned to get her belongings and leave while the agent answered her phone.

"_What_?" Agent Quinn's raised voice startled Betty. "Hang on; are _you_ okay? You didn't leave them alone, did you? Do I need to bring anything?"

Betty grabbed her workout bag and hurried to give Agent Quinn privacy; that sounded like a work-related call, and it sounded bad.

The last thing Betty heard Agent Quinn say was very odd: "What do you mean, bring _eclairs_? If this turns out to be some kind of a sick prank, you are a dead man, Brandon Davies."

Betty had never known Brand to be much for pranks (with the notable exception of the Michigan shenanigans with the climbing gear), but that did sound very weird. She closed the door behind herself with a shake of her head. Maybe Jughead would fill her in later.

**00000**

**The ramp-up is real! I hope you enjoyed, and as always I'll look forward to your notes - of all lengths and level of detail, with (admittedly) particular love of your analysis and thoughts. :) **

**Thanks for reading! I hope you have a wonderful weekend!**

**-Button**


	5. Chapter 5

**Happy Leap Day! :-D**

**Thank you for the lovely reviews, Shyrider45 - things are definitely wild and unsettled, and I liked your point that there is personal turmoil... and that is _not_ helped by the mortal danger cropping up here and there! Also, the head injury was inspired by a far less dramatic incident IRL (not my injury, but I was present and got to be on "stop the bleeding" duty for quite some time) that was shockingly gory - and sharp corners were the culprit. I learned a lot about head wounds and how little it can take to really make a mess! I laughed at your priorities, and we shall have to see... and I agree: yay for Betty learning Krav!**

**Living Lucid Dream, thanks for the great review! I thought that was a neat observation about Brand, and since you pointed it out I've started wondering if that's solely because he's changed (he has gotten more polite and FAR more communicative) or if part of it's also because Clark is not in the intense space that Jughead occupies with him. I have a feeling we'll find out! I'm so glad you liked the girl talk too (and also that it made sense there, instead of being a jarring update to dynamics in the household!). I also have so much sympathy for FP and Jug about the Serpents dynamic. I always hope there's a good way for everyone to be satisfied, but I'm not sure what that might look like for them on this. I love your theories! I think Brand (and just a few other people!) will be pushing for answers to those same questions really quickly as well...**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"Sir, if I could just-,"

"You have teenagers at home?"

"No; I'm only twenty-three-,"

"Then you can't possibly understand. Let him finish apologizing for giving me a hard time this morning." FP leaned back in his hospital bed with a grin. "There will be plenty of time to get my vitals afterward."

"Da-ad." Jughead's tone was chiding, but he couldn't keep from smiling at the obvious evidence that his dad was doing well.

"You want to scoot up here with me, too? I don't have whiplash, and I share the TV remote. Depending on what you want to watch, anyway."

"I think I'm going to go find you some coffee and give you a chance to calm down." Jughead narrowed his eyes at his father.

"Ohhh, no you don't," Brand entered the hospital room then. Clark was right behind him, trailing nervously. "Sit tight and be supportive of the old man. I'll be the one to get any coffee. How's the head, FP?"

"Worse now that you're here," FP quipped with a smirk.

"He bounced back fast, huh? It's kind of disappointing. We didn't even get a few days of coma out of it, and I really could have used the break," Brand said to Jughead. "Clark and I will get you two something to eat, since you'll probably be here for a while. Then we're going to go check in on the investigations."

Jughead looked from Clark and Brand to FP, and the conflict in his expression was palpable.

"Wipe that look off your face. You belong here, kid."

"Jones, I'm so sorry - I know this is terrifying," Clark spoke up. "You know, this one time my father had a bad health scare. It turned out not to be cancer after all, but I spent all day in the hospital with him, and-,"

"Wow, Clark. Good story; very helpful. We'll just get that coffee, eh?" Brand grabbed Clark's shoulder with a grimace and turned him to face the door before he addressed the nurse who was still standing there, waiting, as he left the room. "Aren't you supposed to be examining him or something?"

Clark twisted to face Jughead again as he was forcibly steered from the room. "Are you doing okay, MacGyver? Your dads are being kind of intense-,"

"_What_ did you just call us? You can ban him from this room," FP leaned toward the nurse and spoke as Brand dragged Clark away with an amused snort - and seconds later Brand's laughter was echoing in the hallway. "_Both_ of them. Right after Brandon brings us coffee and food."

Jughead pulled up a chair alongside the bed and slumped into it.

"I don't know why this nurse is laughing," FP said to Jughead. "I'm dead serious."

"All right, Mr. Jones. I can see that you like to have a lot of fun." The nurse began to take his vitals before she continued very casually. "It's hard to believe you're single."

Jughead buried his face in his hands when FP gave him a very, very pleased smirk while the nurse was focused on whatever she was writing. "Well, you'll have to believe it somehow, Miss-,"

"Lorraine."

"That's a beautiful name."

Jughead choked.

"And I bet you've mastered the Heimlich, too," FP continued, waving toward Jughead. "There's really nothing like having a medical professional in the family."

The nurse was grinning when she consulted the chart again. "What do they have you on for pain?"

"Nothing," Jughead gritted out. "This is just my dad."

"_Au naturel_." FP quirked his eyebrows and smirked at Jughead a second time when the nurse giggled.

"I bet Clark's dad didn't embarrass him when he was almost dying in the hospital," Jughead groused.

"Clark is not easily embarrassed. In case you haven't noticed." FP's grin widened when Jughead didn't have an answer for that.

**00000**

Brand and Clark were quickly frustrated when Sheriff Keller barred them from the investigations of both the living room shooting and one in the parking lot of the shooting range.

"Brandon, you know better than to muck around with jurisdictions," Tom said firmly. "Get permission first, and until then get out of the way; go be with FP and make sure that you have your phone on. If anything comes up, I'll call you right away."

"Sir, I'm just an intern with the FBI, so technically I don't have jurisdiction. Does that mean I could-,"

"No, Clark. That only means that you shouldn't be in the middle of _any _investigations. Go to the hospital." Sheriff Keller raised an eyebrow at Clark's logic. "And do me a favor, Brandon. Make sure Jughead doesn't get into any of the hospital coffee. I don't need another call today."

"He knows better." Brand straightened up and nodded quickly, though, when Keller held his gaze without blinking. "No problem, Tom. I'll see to it."

"Thanks." Tom turned away. "Now let me work."

"Okay, Clark. New skill you get to learn: we call this one 'sitting on our hands.'" Brand frowned. "At least Agent Quinn's coming by the hospital soon. We can get news from the agency."

"And spend time with FP," Clark offered cautiously. "I bet he's more shaken up than he's letting on."

"Yeah. And that." Brand nodded reluctantly. "But - word to the wise - I don't put bets on FP's reaction to things anymore."

"You know… FP cares about you, Special Agent Davies." Clark's tone was painfully sincere, like he felt deeply compelled to persuade Brand of this fact. "He really does."

"Obviously. Have you seen what he puts up with from me? I like him too. He scared the crap out of me today. Bu-ut that also means he's going to bug the crap out of me in the hospital," Brand attempted to explain, since this obviously bothered Clark deeply. "He'd agree with me on this, too: it's better to do something productive. Investigate or even work the case indirectly. But since we can't do that, we can bring over a board game or something to keep him from getting stir crazy. Have a chess tournament, maybe."

"Really?" Clark lit up.

"Oh, you like chess?" Brand was a little more interested in this plan now. "I wonder if you could shark FP. That would be worth seeing. If you think you're up to it, then we might just have ourselves a plan."

"Yes, sir. I'll try." Clark's eager grin was encouraging.

**00000**

"Welcome to the most boring tournament in history." Jughead got up to greet Archie and Fred Andrews when they arrived at the hospital room. "At least we have eclairs. They're from a bakery, though, because apparently you have to make plans in _advance_ in order to get homemade eclairs delivered to you in the hospital."

"Are you okay, man?" Archie patted Jughead on the shoulder, and then left his hand there as if to steady him. "It sounded an awful lot like there were _two _shootings, which doesn't make any sense - except that it's you, which means all bets are off-,"

"Yeah, you should have heard Agent Quinn about that. She actually thought Brand was making it up, and _then _she called us 'magnets for trouble,' which seemed a little harsh. It's not like we're crying wolf or going around picking fights. Come on - over here," Jughead drew Archie to one side of the room so they could catch up. "Clark's focusing. He and Dad are battling it out at chess."

"Uh-huh." Archie followed Jughead to where he'd arranged some chairs that he'd collected from around the hospital floor. Archie gave FP and Clark a skeptical look; Brand was watching with fascination as they studied a chess board on the raised table that swung over the hospital bed. "Seriously. What happened?"

"We don't know. Brand isn't allowed to investigate right now, either, because of jurisdiction stuff and protocol. He's hoping that he can make it the FBI's business tomorrow, and Agent Quinn thinks that's basically inevitable." Jughead shrugged. "We'll see how it goes. But yeah, there were two shootings. We haven't decided what to do about leaving the hospital yet, but I think Dad needs serious protection."

"Hey, FP," Fred approached the hospital bed. "I got your message about the windows, and then I got Brandon's about you being shot and here in the hospital. What's going on? How are you feeling?"

"I'm good, Fred." FP waved to Fred without looking up from the game. "They practically missed. I hit my head on a door, so that's most of what I'm here for. Our front windows are destroyed, though, so I'm going to need recommendations for getting those replaced as soon as possible."

"_Practically_ missed?" Fred's tone was dubious and deeply concerned. He looked down at the chess board. "Watch that rook."

Three sets of eyes glared at Fred.

"Okay, okay; I'll stay out of the game. But what do you mean, 'practically missed,' FP?"

"He has a graze on his left arm," Jughead explained. "Which _actually _means that he was hit. By a _bullet_."

"It's nothing." FP glanced over at Jughead, giving him a reassuring look. "I'm fine, Jughead."

"He's in this... _mood_, too," Jughead waved a hand at FP in frustration. "Like he had a near death experience or something."

Brand rubbed a hand over his eyes and stood up from his chair. "Kid, seriously?"

"Well... it sounds like you did, FP." Fred looked from FP to Jughead. "Maybe even two of them."

"He keeps trying to say it's nothing, though." Jughead's tone was starting to harden. "Except he's acting like he almost died, so-,"

"We might need to take a break," Brand interjected, giving Jughead a worried look. "Maybe give those two a few minutes alone. Have you had the sandwiches here, Fred? They're fairly edible, all things considered."

"I have. They're not terrible," Fred agreed. "We'll be back in a little while, FP, and I expect the full story then. Clark, were you there for any of this?"

Clark stretched as he stood up from the chess game and then rolled the table back from FP's position on the bed. "No, and I've been barred from investigating for the time being. I'd like to help, though, so hopefully we'll get some news from the sheriff soon."

Jughead watched everyone file out, Archie giving him a sympathetic smile and then mouthing 'I have news' as his father drew him from the room.

"Come here, Jug," FP patted the bed. "What's bothering you?"

Jughead approached his father stiffly. "You're acting like those people who nearly die, and then get all happy. You didn't almost die, Dad."

"I scared you, though." FP reached for Jughead's arm and guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. "Scared myself, too. And I am very relieved that you're not hurt, and that I'll be back on my feet tomorrow at the latest."

There had been talk of keeping FP in the hospital overnight for observation, but nobody thought that his injuries warranted more concern than that.

Jughead considered FP's words. "You're just relieved? You're not… a little manic?"

"No more than usual." FP laughed lightly. "Don't get me wrong: I'm _very _relieved. But my being relieved - or maybe even a little manic - doesn't mean that I almost died."

"I know."

"But you needed to hear that." FP searched Jughead's expression. "Right?"

Jughead slid a little further onto the bed and FP rested an arm around his waist. "Maybe."

"And I'm going to be careful. Something's going on, and I take that seriously - even if I don't think it's a 'hit.'" FP laughed a little as he echoed Brand's wording, and he pulled Jughead closer. "I'm not planning on leaving you alone with Brandon, with only Fred to buffer things. Not ever."

"You're planning to outlive Brand?" Jughead turned toward FP with a small smirk.

"Probably by decades, the way he runs around making enemies."

"Well. Maybe by a few years." Jughead bit his lip.

"I'm not saying this would happen anytime soon, Jughead. Your godfather's going to be around for a good long time."

Jughead nodded.

"But that means I've got to be here too, to keep him in line."

Jughead nodded again. "Agreed."

"How are your ribs? I know you said you're off the pills, but we've been making plans to go to an amusement park. You're not rushing anything, are you?" FP nudged Jughead's ribcage lightly.

"They're… okay," Jughead admitted. "I might actually take a pill for the park. I'll bring a few for the day, just in case."

"All right. You can take it easy, too." FP watched Jughead's expression. "We can also keep this quiet from Brandon if you want, since he's worried about the pills."

Jughead nodded. "Thanks. He worries a lot."

"Don't let him pressure you; those were prescribed because you need them." FP frowned. He might need to have yet another chat with Brandon. "You should take them if you're in pain."

"I know." Jughead leaned into his father gently, glad that he was sitting on his uninjured right side. "So… what's going to happen if you ever get hurt worse and _need _painkillers?"

FP studied Jughead's expression. "You mean because I'm an addict?"

Jughead shrugged uncomfortably.

"I've never abused pills, Jug," FP was thoughtful. "But you're right; I turned them down today because it's not a good idea for me. If I ever got hurt worse and really needed something, I'd probably just ask Brandon to keep an eye on my pain and my pacing."

Jughead gave him a surprised look.

"He's obsessive, and that has its uses."

"That's true." Jughead sighed. "He thinks I'll get addicted."

"No. He doesn't." FP squeezed Jughead lightly again. "He worries, but he's one hundred percent convinced that you're too smart and too strong to make the mistakes I made - or the mistakes he made, for that matter. He just wants to make it easier for you, that's all."

"Ha." Jughead raised one eyebrow. "It's not exactly easy dealing with him."

"That's part of his method." FP nodded in agreement. "As long as you're dealing with him, you're not dealing with addiction. And, believe me, addiction is worse than Brandon."

"Now that's a scary thought." Jughead sighed. "And... I kind of get why Brand worries."

"I know you do." FP's voice was quiet. "I'm sorry you have to."

"I worry less, though."

"I've noticed, and I appreciate that. You worry more when there are Serpents around, though, right? Especially when I'm keeping information to myself about them?"

Jughead was surprised to hear his dad put into words so simply what he'd been trying to figure out all day. "How did you know?"

FP huffed a laugh. "It's not rocket science. And I do think about drinking more often when I'm with them. Only that thought comes with a whole lot of regret. I want you to know that. It's a very complicated temptation, and it hasn't been hard to resist. I think a lot more about how much I want our life - the one we're making now, together - and not any version of the one I had for years. Before Blossom and Brandon and all that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." FP leaned back onto his pillow and Jughead turned to face him more directly. "So. Can I be relieved, and happy, and maybe even a little manic again?"

Jughead laughed. "Sorry. I got worried."

"That's fine. It's good to have people to worry about you, Jug. It reminds me of what's important, and it's also just plain reassuring to know that people are looking out for me."

"Even when it's Brand?"

"Even then," FP agreed. "But do not tell him I said that. And don't you forget what we've been talking about in couple's counseling."

Jughead smirked at his dad's nickname for their shared sessions with FP's therapist.

"You are not always responsible when things happen. You didn't cause the shooting, and it's not your job to fix it." FP gave Jughead a small smile. "Some things have nothing to do with you. And that should be a relief, even if it takes some time for you to get used to it."

Jughead nodded, but his mind was on the burner phone hidden in his backpack. He really hoped his dad was right.

To be fair, the threatening note that Clark had received had specifically mentioned the protection that extended to his dad, so presumably that was still in place. All the same, Jughead couldn't shake the vivid memory of Donn saying that Clark knew too much - and so did FP.

"Well. That is not the face I was hoping you'd make." FP's brow knit with concern. "Look, I know that things have gotten busier again, and some of that's my fault. But I can absolutely spend more time with you on weeknights if you're feeling like-,"

"I'm not feeling ignored, Dad. Or neglected, whatever." Jughead managed a wry smile at the idea of his feeling in any way bereft of attention in the full household. "Seriously. If anything, I'm relieved that the leash is finally getting a little slack in it. I just have a lot running through my head sometimes. Not all of it's… relevant."

"Okay. You always have been one for living inside that head of yours." FP seemed to relax and his voice rang with pride. "Speaking of which, are you writing anything that you're interested in sharing with your old man?"

Jughead was still distracted enough with thoughts of Donn and Rose that he had to concentrate on the question before he came up with an answer. "Uh, yeah, actually. Betty's been giving me more story assignments for _The Register_, and I've got a draft of one about Southside High merging with Riverdale High. Alice is going to write up the dance for the _Blue and Gold_, but my article's about the transition as a whole."

"Sounds interesting."

"I'm not mentioning the Serpents, don't worry."

"It's okay if you do." FP's tone was gentle. "I'm not asking because I'm looking for a slant."

"Yeah. I know."

"I am, however, looking for some bragging rights. Fred's going to be insufferable about Archie's concept album."

"Ah." Jughead looked away to hide his pleased expression. "Well, I'll see what I can do."

"I'd appreciate that." FP smiled contentedly.

**00000**

"So, you can crank up the oversight?" Brand had excused himself from the group and stepped outside to make a quick phone call.

"I can if you really think it's necessary." Dominic Rose seemed entirely unperturbed. "I'll of course honor our deal. To the letter."

"Everything you've been investing in Jones depends on it." Brand wasn't sure he had any other ammunition to use in this conversation. "He'll be… well, it will be a _setback _if he loses FP. And-," Brand thought of the only other ammunition he might have, "-if you let him down on your part of the bargain, I will not support you in maintaining any further ties to the kid beyond making certain - beyond a shadow of a doubt - that he is left protected."

"I'll invest in oversight. For a time. That boy is expensive."

"You get what you pay for." Brand glowered at the unspoken suggestion that Jones was not worth taking care of. "He's worth every penny."

"We'll see. Perhaps you should pay me a visit with him sometime, so that I can see for myself how he's doing." For a few moments Brand was left to wonder if his brain had shorted out, but then Rose continued: "Not now, though. For the time being, you just do your part to see to the issue; after all, if FP Jones has gotten himself into a situation, it really is not my problem."

"Make it your problem." Brand choked the words out, but was still trying to absorb what a summons from Rose could mean for the kid. For both of them. And then another thought occurred to him. "Where's Donn, anyway? Do you have a handle on him?"

"You know that I do." Rose sounded like he was beginning to lose patience with the conversation.

Well, tough.

"I know that you had him threaten Clark," Brand shot back. "Unless you were unaware of that? He needs to be leashed-,"

"Your vendetta against Donn has gone on for long enough, I think." Rose cut Brand off decisively, and his tone was suddenly icy. "You've said your piece, and I've agreed to make reasonable accommodations to compensate for FP's predilection for attracting enemies. We will speak again later, Brandon."

Brand waited silently, still wondering how seriously Rose had meant that summons.

"Understood?"

Perhaps all too well.

"Yes, Rose." Brand made his tone bland, and amenable to any read Rose wished to make of it. "Thank you. I appreciate it, and you'll find that keeping FP safe is a sound investment."

"I'm sure that I will." The edge in Rose's voice made the words a threat, though that didn't make a whole lot of sense.

Brand massaged his forehead as he hung up.

Well, it sounded like Rose was not directly responsible for the attacks on FP - which was a relief, since that would have meant all-out war - but it was still unclear to Brand whether things were happening because Rose had allowed Donn too much free rein, intentionally or otherwise.

Or, since this still reeked of far more amateur work than Donn's, whether something far more subtle and insidious had happened.

A stated or implied removal of protection from FP might read like a challenge, a declaration of 'open season' on him, or perhaps even a golden opportunity to ingratiate oneself with Rose. And with some fancy footwork, that might not technically break the deal, particularly if it had all somehow been brokered indirectly through Donn.

However, from what Brand could see, Rose didn't stand to benefit from losing FP 'accidentally.' It wasn't like FP was a threat to him.

No, it was a little too smoke and mirrors for Brand to feel confident about any of it, but that was another reason for the phone call: to put Rose on notice that Brand would be crying foul if anything 'accidentally' messed up their arrangement.

They'd just have to see if this stopped the bullets from flying.

**00000**

Archie led the group back into the hospital room and handed Jughead a wrapped sandwich. "It's still warm. I thought it looked the best out of everything down there."

Jughead accepted it gratefully, smiling when Archie flourished a second wrapped sandwich before handing it to FP.

"So, while you eat, I'll tell you my news. Then you have to tell me everything," Archie said as he and Jughead settled into chairs across the room from the adults.

"Yeah, what's up?" Jughead asked curiously. He peeled back the wrapper and inhaled deeply. "Mmmm. Barbecue?"

"Nothing but the best when the options are either hospital food or hospital food." Archie grinned. "Okay, so quickly: after my set at the Northside/Southside mixer, this guy came up to me and wanted to know if I was looking for other gigs. Paid ones. And he thought I could play at the amusement park on Saturday this coming weekend, in exchange for free admission and, like, the tiniest possible amount of money." Jughead's eyes widened, and Archie grinned and nodded.

"It would be a big crowd, and the fact that Veronica and I recorded a bunch of the songs came in really handy because he could take a copy that night to play for other people. I just heard today that we're in!"

"That's incredible! Congratulations!" Jughead enthused. "We'll all get to see you play again, and that is going to be a huge crowd. Everyone will hear your songs. Can everybody make it? I know Veronica was already planning on going to the park with us, but is Melody going to be able to be there too?"

"We-ell," Archie made a face. "I know you're not going to be super excited about this part, but I've always known that Melody's not very available for gigs, let alone for practicing and recording. So I've been… 'in talks' with Gunnar about drumming."

"He drums?" Jughead had a hard time picturing that.

"Yeah. He's really good, too, which is apparently not unrelated to his insane skill with a butterfly knife," Archie shrugged apologetically when Jughead made a face. "He said he'd only consider it if I got a paid gig, so I wasn't sure if it would ever happen, but here we are."

"Huh." Jughead tried to wrap his head around the idea. "If he's good, and he's actually going to practice and show up-,"

"He's kind of anal about scheduling. I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"Okay. Well, then, cool. I think that's really exciting, Arch," Jughead felt his enthusiasm return as the arrangement with Gunnar sounded less and less like a minefield. "I can't wait to see you perform again."

"I'm really excited," Archie was grinning from ear to ear. "Okay, enough about that. Someone shot up your house?"

"Uh, kind of, yeah." Jughead frowned; Archie's wording sounded objectively horrifying, yet at the same time it was... accurate. "I wasn't home, but Dad was and he had, um, friends over to play board games while we were at the dance last night."

"Oh wow. So his friends were there when it happened? Was anyone hurt?" Archie's eyes were wide.

"Nobody was hurt, but it sounds like it was a close thing. They definitely could have been." Jughead hadn't given a lot of thought to that possibility - that his dad being a target might have endangered the Serpents, and not the other way around. It was a disconcerting idea. "Clark and I got home with Brand, like, right afterward. Everyone was still lying on the floor in case there was any more shooting."

"Whoa. That is intense," Archie breathed. "So nobody was hurt last night. But today someone shot your dad? At your house again?"

"No. We were at the shooting range."

"Someone at the range shot FP? Holy crap." Archie was aghast. "Remind me to never go to that shooting range."

"No - not at the range itself. It was outside, in the parking lot. The people who work there were totally on top of everything, actually. But yeah, at first I thought the gunshots were just people shooting inside the range, but then my dad shoved me through the doors and he was bleeding on me, and-," Jughead stopped, not sure he was telling the story well. "Uh, the gun range people called the police and an ambulance, and helped me stop the bleeding from where my dad hit his head on the door when he pushed me into the building."

"Oh." Archie seemed to need a moment to absorb the story. "Um, does all this mean that someone is seriously after your dad?"

"It's insane, right? Brand was even wondering if there was a hit out on him."

"No kidding? Well, Sheriff Keller will figure out something. You should definitely have protection." Archie's expression was concerned and sympathetic, and he sneaked a glance at his own father. "I'd be freaking out if it was my dad."

"That might help, but - I mean…" Jughead shrugged helplessly, motioning toward everyone in the hospital room. "What more can we do? Brand lives with us, we've got Clark for an extra set of eyes, and we even have Trig. Adding an officer is only going to do so much, you know?"

"No, man. It's still a deterrent." Archie spoke firmly and reassuringly. "I mean, it's what we did when you had the credible threat, and we had a lot of people in the house then too."

"That's true." Jughead thought about that for a few moments. "Yeah, I guess so. It just feels like nothing will make him totally safe, though. If someone really wants to hurt him, eventually they'll find a way."

"Would it help if I came over? Spent the night, or maybe even a few nights?" Archie glanced over at his father, who seemed to be having a very similar conversation with FP. "I'm sure it would be fine, and that way I could talk you down whenever you get too worried. Unless that would be too many people in your house."

"It probably would be too many people," Jughead spoke reluctantly. "It's tempting, and thanks, but we're kind of at capacity. Maybe after Brand closes on his house? Then it would be great having you stay over for a few nights."

"Count on it. It's a plan." Archie nodded once. "So, have you told Betty what happened? I'm guessing not, since she isn't here."

"Did you tell Veronica anything?" Jughead was suddenly concerned that news might reach Betty before he did have a chance to call her.

"I didn't have anything to tell her before I got here, so no." Archie shook his head. "You can call Betty now if you want. Or text her."

"Maybe I should." Jughead pulled out his phone with a frown. A call suddenly seemed too serious, but a text might be overwhelming. "Or maybe I should have Brand do it. That's usually how I tell her these kinds of things."

"Oh, man," Archie cringed, "do not keep doing that. That was only because you were, like, incapacitated those other times. This time it's your dad, so you should definitely be the one to call. Or text."

Jughead nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." He began composing a text to see how it read while he finished off the sandwich Archie had brought for him.

Archie leaned back in his chair and looked over to where Clark was positioning the chess board for FP again. His eyes returned to his father once more. "I'll just go see who's winning."

Archie left Jughead to type.

**00000**

**I know: major cliffhanger about whether FP gets to go on roller coasters. Hang in there. :) As always, I love any and all notes as I work on the next chapter - and I so appreciate your reading along. :)**

**Aaaand I hope you have a wonderful weekend!**

**-Button**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six! :-D**

**Thanks so much for the review, Skyrider45! I am so glad Clark is still lovable. :) Jug's getting some of the full teenager experience now, too - embarrassing parental behavior and all. He and FP are definitely finding their groove, even if there are steps forward and back allll along the way. I love the paranoia! I'm not sure they're traveling that far to the amusement park (it sounds just like Cedar Point for many reasons, but is kind of a smaller cousin park that is fictional and closer to Riverdale...? :), but things rarely go entirely smoothly when a lot is going on at once. I totally agree about the stirring happening, too. We'll have to see who gets to ride the roller coasters! :-D**

**Living Lucid Dream, that was my favorite line from last chapter. Clark was finally the one to say it... ;) And yes, Brand has been keeping an eye on FP for a while - they're both starting to understand their relationship and learning to rely on certain portions of it, I think, even as they continue to rub each other the wrong way. And yay for more possible vectors for getting to Toronto! Rose getting more involved is something I've been looking forward to, though I agree the pool of suspects is large and diverse. It's always complicated. :) And yes, there was a teeny tiny line in ST about Gunnar owning drums (Archie tries to make conversation about it while at gunpoint), and I am very glad it is a logical outgrowth of what we've seen of him so far. An "interesting dynamic" is sure to follow, I agree. :) And yay for Archie getting to play more, and being an awesome bud. He needed more space to shine. :) Sorry about the cliffhanger, too... soon to be rectified! :-D**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Sheriff Keller arrived at the hospital to speak with FP and Brand that evening, so Fred offered to take Archie, Clark, and Jughead out to get dinner.

"I'll stay," Jughead said quickly. "I want to help."

"You need a break, Jughead," FP insisted. "Go get some real food and let us deal with things for a little while. I'll be right here when you get back."

"You've earned it," Sheriff Keller added. "That was nice work taking care of your father today; I can see I'll be able to count on you for whatever plan we come up with to make sure that he stays safe."

Jughead smiled, even though he was fairly certain that he was being placated. "Thanks, Sheriff Keller."

"But that means you need to take care of yourself, or you won't be much help to anyone. It's just like the oxygen masks on a plane, Jughead," Tom looked him over with concern, taking in his weight loss.

"I do take care of myself. I eat. Brand cooks tons of stuff - and we make things together all the time. And we get takeout. I just - I'm having a growth spurt, maybe." Jughead flushed with embarrassment as he started to ramble. He wondered if Sheriff Keller would ever forget his suspicion in the spring that his father had been denying him food to get his compliance and to get information from him.

"Okay. That can certainly do it." Tom left it at that, though he gave both FP and Brand serious looks that indicated he was not going to forget about what he was observing. "But you four should go get dinner. We'll take it from here."

FP assured Jughead that he'd fill him in completely later on - and Brand joked that he'd fill in all of the parts that FP left out.

They'd been inspired by the sandwiches they'd eaten earlier, and on the recommendation of several nurses Fred, Clark, Archie, and Jughead walked to a barbecue place that was just a few blocks from the hospital.

"So, Clark, tell me what brought you to be interested in working with the FBI." Their food had arrived, and Mr. Andrews began dividing up two full racks of ribs for the group and casually slid the largest portion onto Jughead's plate without comment. "I hear these intern spots are highly coveted - and that you're completing a graduate program at the same time. That's very impressive."

"Almost as impressive as you beating Dad once at chess. Even if it was _only_ once before he cleaned your clock," Jughead chimed in with a grin.

"He's an excellent player, Jones, and a worthy opponent. And thank you, sir," Clark ducked his head shyly at Fred. "I was fortunate, and I had the opportunity to take a few years off after college to be involved in vaccine education overseas to get some real world experience before I started my Master's program. That was a huge help for getting the FBI internship - and I've been learning so much since I got there."

"That's really something," Mr. Andrews looked even more impressed. "Are you planning to work overseas again after you graduate, or are you hoping to continue with the FBI?"

"Honestly?" Clark began slicing his meat neatly off of the bones and looked almost bashful as he spoke. "I'm sure you hear this all the time from MacGyver here, but I'd kind of like to do what Special Agent Davies does." Clark seemed to take Mr. Andrews' involuntary noise of surprise as encouragement, and he warmed to the subject.

"He's been an inspiration, from his early career up to now. I've heard people suggest that he's so successful because he doesn't have a good work-life balance, but that's obviously just sour grapes. Davies _does _have family and friends, and he makes as much time for them as any professional I've ever worked with." Clark patted Jughead on the shoulder, as if he were exhibit A. "Maybe that's not something I can reasonably achieve - not without his level of talent -, but I've always believed in learning from the best role models I possibly can."

Everyone at the table stared at Clark.

"Uh-huh." Mr. Andrews tried to recover smoothly. "Brandon certainly does find ways to involve family and friends in his life and work, yes. And finding a good work-life balance is definitely important."

Jughead took a big bite of rib, studiously avoiding the concerned eye contact that Mr. A was trying to make with him.

"So maybe I will try for undercover work. It's a young man's game, or at least a single man's game, so I could do that for a while before I meet someone and settle down." Clark seemed to be cutting all of the meat off of his ribs before he began eating, and a tidy pile of bones was stacking up at the side of his plate.

"That seems wise," Mr. Andrews nodded his approval. "Are you almost finished with your degree program?"

"One more semester." Clark beamed at the thought. "A Master's degree just flies by, but that's been a fantastic experience as well. I'd be a terrible academic - I'm far too practical - but that's been another place where I've had some excellent role models to learn from."

"How are you too _practical _to be an academic?" Jughead asked skeptically. "I think you'd be perfect. You could research all the time and tell people things constantly."

"Publishing, Jones," Clark pulled a face. "It's become a rat race of hurried mediocrity just to stay reasonably employed. I can aspire to be like Special Agent Davies, but I know my limits. I can't produce quality research on anything approaching a schedule that would make me competitive in academia. And cranking out poor quality work would be the death of me. Can you imagine the damage I could do to the field? I'd be very reluctant to pursue a PhD for that reason, unless it were paid for by an employer."

"Oh." Mr. Andrews didn't appear to have much to say to that. "Well, I'm glad you've researched the options in enough depth to make an informed decision."

Archie was tucking into his dinner and giving the others amused glances as they talked.

"Are you looking forward to college even more now that you're hearing this about your future professors, Archie?" Mr. Andrews tried to draw him into the conversation. "Maybe getting some ideas for how to think about your career goals?"

"Not really, no. So much of it's random, Dad." Archie shrugged, smiling almost apologetically as he disagreed. "No offense, Clark, but you _were _lucky. And if you had a different boss right now, you might be thinking about a totally different career for after your internship ended."

Clark nodded without objection.

"And maybe the FBI won't hire you because they… run out of money or something. Or maybe academic jobs will suddenly be easier to get when you graduate, and that will change your decision." Archie shrugged. "I don't know how it all plays out, but I'm not sure I could guess what kind of work I'll be doing in ten years - not even if I could see five years into the future right now. You know?"

"That is so astute," Clark responded warmly to Archie's words. "You're completely right. Really, we can forecast and model the ebb and flow of so many systems, but when it comes down to it, the wisest people know not to even attempt predicting too far ahead."

Jughead wanted to roll his eyes. Instead, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and angled it so that he could see the screen under the table. There was another message from Betty, offering to wait up for him in case he wanted to call and talk more later in the evening, which was nice. Nothing from Brand or his dad, though.

"Now Jones here is someone who knows how to expect the unexpected." Clark's words pulled Jughead's attention back to the conversation. "He keeps an open hand and rolls with the punches as they come. You'd be bored to tears if you had it all planned out, am I right?"

"Um, actually, I wouldn't mind seeing five years - or ten - into the future, Clark." Jughead frowned.

"Oh, come on. Your whole life is just one unexpected adventure after another. You're having the most exciting entry into adulthood that's _possible _in some ways." Clark's tone was admiring.

"That is not always a good thing, Clark." Jughead immediately regretted his words when his tone came out overly sharp.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry - I didn't mean your dad-,"

"He doesn't mean that either," Mr. Andrews stepped in then with a warning in his voice for Clark and a quick shake of his head. "Not just that, anyway. And Jughead raises another good point; there's a lot to be said for stability and some measure of security."

This time Jughead did meet Mr. A's concerned eye contact, gratefully.

"Yeah. There's a reason that the curse is to 'live in interesting times,'" Jughead said, aiming for a blithe tone that would lighten the mood. "Sometimes I think I could stand a whole lot more boredom."

"Which is why we're best friends," Archie interjected with an air of finality on the subject. He'd caught on to what Clark apparently did not realize about Jughead and FP's history - or Jughead and Brand's history -, and what his own father was trying to shield Jughead from having to address directly, or pretend never happened. "I can supply the boredom, and I'm always up for sharing your adventures. Well, within reason."

Jughead felt his phone buzz. He slipped it out of his pocket again and was relieved to see texts from Brand and his dad, with identical timestamps.

'Loads of protection. You're going to love this, kid,' Brand had sent.

'I think you'll like the plan we came up with. Enjoy your dinner and bring me some dessert if you can,' FP had texted.

"Brand or FP?" Archie asked, seeing Jughead's worried expression relax for the first time since they'd left the hospital.

"I'm going to guess both," Mr. Andrews said, giving Jughead an assessing look and a small smile. When Jughead returned the smile and nodded, Mr. Andrews continued: "See? Your life is somewhat predictable these days, and that is no bad thing."

Jughead absorbed the warmth of his phone through his fingers for a few moments before replacing it in his pocket. "We should get dessert. And do you think any of the desserts would pack well to go? I think Dad's hungry."

"Ooh, a challenge," Clark lit up and reached for a menu to peruse the options. "I like it. Want to get a few different things for dessert and split? We can decide which ones will travel well once we see them."

"You're such a grad student," Archie teased. "My dad's paying, so you can get your own dessert if you want."

"Oh, no - it's not about the money. It's just more fun this way," Clark responded. "You'll see."

"Or maybe _you'll _see, when Jughead eats everything," Archie warned him with a laugh.

"Only if you're too slow." Jughead reached for a menu as well and looked at the dessert options as he ate a dinner roll. He hadn't realized that he was quite so tense until this moment, when he felt a weight lifting that he hadn't realized he'd been carrying. He suddenly had a new appreciation for what his dad had been explaining in the hospital about feeling so relieved that he seemed manic. "But we have to bring two back to the hospital. Brand's a total dessert thief."

"That's true, actually - I've seen him do it!" Archie laughed at his father's surprised expression. "Don't you remember in Michigan, Dad?"

"Can't say as I do," Mr. Andrews smiled along with them, "but we can certainly bring them each a dessert. I think that's a fine idea."

**00000**

"Which prison?" Sweet Pea's tone in the phone call was more curious than shocked, sympathetic, or anything else that Alice had expected when she'd decided to tell him about her decision.

"Um, it's in another county. Near the border with Canada."

"Wende? That's a dump; don't go alone. I'll drive you. Not on my bike, either - I'll borrow a car."

Alice was shocked into silence.

"I won't, like, come in." Sweet Pea suddenly sounded unsure of himself. "I mean, if you want me to, I will. But you probably won't want anyone else there for the visit. I'll wait wherever you like, and I'll bring a book. This has been a long time coming, right? You haven't visited her before?"

Alice still wasn't sure what to say, and the silence lengthened.

"Aw, man. I freaked you out. I'm sorry - I only know about some of the prisons because of the Serpents. It's not like I'm a felon, I promise." Sweet Pea was clearly getting more worried by the moment.

"No. No, it's all good. I just-," Alice's mind went blank again.

"You just... have no idea what to expect ever since your parents were both locked up, and suddenly I'm looking like I'm closer to their side of the divide than yours?" Sweet Pea sounded even more anxious.

"No, actually. I'm... really grateful that you offered," Alice corrected him. Her mind seemed to have unfrozen successfully. "Thanks. And maybe. Can I think about it? Hermione offered too, and I need to think things through."

"Of course." Sweet Pea let the silence hang for a few moments before continuing. "Gunnar might have some thoughts about it too. Insights, maybe. I know he's a friend; you should have support. This is a big deal."

Alice wondered if Sweet Pea was intentionally pushing buttons that made her so off-balance that she couldn't respond coherently. Or maybe that was just his superpower.

"Sorry. Am I not supposed to bring him up?"

Alice took some cold comfort in the fact that Sweet Pea sounded like he was a hairsbreadth away from panic.

"It's fine. I just, uh, didn't think you wanted to talk about Gunnar." Alice felt her eyes drop with embarrassment, even though they were on the phone. "I mean-,"

"Hey, I'm not thirteen. You and I haven't gone on a real date. We're not… _anything_, let alone exclusive." Sweet Pea's voice dropped low, and it was clear that he was equally embarrassed with the turn the conversation had taken. "And you should feel sure before we talk about something like that. Or, um, you know, at least a little sure - as in, 'not actively wondering about a specific classmate' levels of sure. I'm not talking, uh, commitment. Not like... wallpaper or anything."

"Wallpaper." Alice's tone was flat, but she felt like she might explode into nervous, hysterical laughter as she considered Sweet Pea's choice of analogy.

"Or paint colors. Whatever you prefer." Sweet Pea had a smile in his voice now. "Carpet, maybe?"

"Hardwood floors, all the way." Alice was grinning now, and a giggle slipped out.

"Okay. All right. That's cool; I can work with that. Consider the floor settled. And... we'll keep an open mind about the walls."

"That sounds good." Alice leaned back on her bed. "An open mind is good."

"I think so." Sweet Pea sounded relaxed and happier now as well.

"What kind of floors do you have at your place?" Alice was still curious about Sweet Pea's living arrangements. "Because I'm assuming wallpaper now. The flowery, grandmother kind."

"How did you know?" Sweet Pea laughed. "I've got carpet, but like the fancy kind with the hardwood shining through. It's all very artistic."

"Wow - so avant garde." Alice giggled again, but she wondered how much was a joke and how much was a bashful way of sharing the honest truth about his place. "You have heat? Or do you just burn a couch now and then when it gets too cold?"

Sweet Pea groaned. "Couches are pricey. I'm lucky to get an ottoman most days."

"Well, you're in luck. I might know a guy." Alice grinned when Sweet Pea laughed again. "Because an ottoman is just sad."

"Don't I know it." Sweet Pea groaned again, but this time as if he was stretching out on his end of the phone. "So, what's it like at the Lodges' place? Caviar and silver spoons?"

"Actually, I _do _love the hardwood floors here." Alice's tone turned sincere. "You should come over sometime. They're really nice to dance on in socks."

"Yeah?" Sweet Pea's tone turned more serious too, and he sounded very interested in this plan. "I'm in. If it's okay with the Lodges."

"Hermione's been encouraging me to have friends over. I think it's more than okay." Alice smiled, and somehow she knew that Sweet Pea was doing the same thing on his end of the phone.

"All right, then. It's a plan."

**00000**

After dinner at the barbecue joint, the four returned to the hospital room and Mr. Andrews handed Brand and FP each a small takeout container. Before FP had his open, though, Brand was swapping containers with him.

"Hey!" FP swatted Brand's hand just before he moved out of reach.

"That one's peanut butter and chocolate, your favorite," Brand said as he opened the container he now held and examined its contents. "This one's just fudge. Ooh, and hazelnut. It would be wasted on you, FP."

"That's actually who we got them for," Jughead said. "They must have gotten mislabeled."

"All right, then; I certainly won't turn down chocolate and peanut butter." FP smiled up at Fred. "Thanks for bringing us these, and for taking Jughead and Clark out for a while. It's been quite the day, and I feel a lot better knowing that they got a break and something substantial to eat."

"Oh, of course. It was my pleasure; they're wonderful company, and you know I always enjoy catching up with Jughead. Are the docs going to let you go home tonight?" Fred asked.

"I don't think so. And even if they do, it might take a while to get me discharged. You and Archie should go home and get ready for the week. I'll be sending Brandon home with these two if it takes much longer to get an answer."

"Okay. Call if I can help with anything at all, FP," Fred patted the bed railing in lieu of touching FP's injured left shoulder. "Take the day off tomorrow if you're tired, or in any pain. I'll have workers at your house tomorrow afternoon to see to those windows."

"Thanks, Fred. That's a huge help."

Archie waved goodbye to Jughead. "I'll see you tomorrow. And I'll see you when you're back on the job, FP."

"I'll be working tomorrow if I get the all-clear," FP assured him.

"Oh, cool. Well, I'll see you Tuesday, then," Archie amended. "I've got late practice tomorrow. I'm really glad you're okay."

"Thanks, Red. Me too." FP smiled as Archie and Fred left the hospital room. "So, Jughead, here's the plan that Sheriff Keller and I came up with…"

**00000**

FP was kept in the hospital overnight for observation, with security on alert and watching his room. Jughead opted to stay with him while Clark and Brand went back to the house to get some sleep.

The next morning, Brand brought each of the Joneses a change of clothing before morning rounds began. He'd arranged to drop Jones off at school and have Clark meet him there before their shifts at the RA so that he could leave the kid's car with him at Riverdale High.

Brand was surprised to find FP wide awake and Jones sound asleep beside him on the hospital bed. FP was stroking the kid's hair, and Jones had one hand resting directly over his father's heart.

"I was going to offer to talk him down for you, but it looks like that's entirely unnecessary," Brand said. "Unless this was intended as some sort of protective measure?"

"We had a good talk yesterday, but by all means feel free to put in a word or two. I'll take all the help I can get," FP replied quietly. "And no, it hasn't occurred to him - yet - to place himself physically between me and the entire world. He wasn't sleeping, so I told him I was having trouble calming down from all of the excitement. He taught me some of your breathing exercises and conked right out in the middle of one."

"Aha. That would certainly do the trick." Brand was amused. "Good work getting him to sleep. But if he wants a shower before school he doesn't have a whole lot of time."

"I've got it." FP shifted slightly and slid Jones from his side onto his back, carefully keeping his hand between the kid's head and the metal bed railing. "Jug? Brandon's here. He's got clothing. And breakfast."

"I don't have break-,"

"Well, go get something, Brandon. He's not going to school without something to eat."

All right, then.

Brand waved when Jones squinted up at him from his tiny patch of hospital bed. "I'll be right back with food. Go shower, change, and then I'll drop you and your car off at school."

"Okay." Jones yawned. "Did you bring my backpack? Did Trig seem okay?"

"Yes and yes." Brand held up the backpack by its safety-pinned straps. "We're getting you a new one, by the way. Jameson tore this one apart on you, and we can't let the terrorists win."

The kid gave him a look, but seemed like he was too disoriented to come up with a response. He sat up and stretched awkwardly, and Brand winced when his back gave a series of loud cracks.

"Bring me coffee, too," FP ordered. "I should be discharged pretty soon, so can you give me a ride home? I'd like to get to work, and I need to make a phone call."

Brand sighed. "Yeah, I'll get it squared away. Sarah can cover for me for an hour or two, and Clark's hours are a lot more flexible than mine. I'm starting to think that maybe I need to get a minivan while I'm staying with you two."

"You do need to get something." FP was not sure why Brand had not rented a car yet - or bought one, for that matter, since he was moving to Riverdale more permanently. "Thanks, Brandon."

"Thanks, Brand," Jones echoed. He was beginning to look more awake, and perhaps even like he might be able to stand upright. "Will you get me some hot chocolate? With maybe just a shot of coffee in it?"

"Sure, kid. You earned it." Brand gave the kid a warm smile. "Hospital support is important, and sometimes it drains the life right out of you."

Jones shot his father a worried look.

"I meant that it's hard on the people waiting, not the patient," Brand clarified. "It's helpful for the patient to have you here."

"Okay." Jones slid off the bed onto his feet. "Good."

"Anything else you want to put in an order for while I'm here?" Brand gave FP a wry look. "I'm at your service."

"Protein. Maybe sausage; that's hard to screw up." FP watched Jones collect his clothing and backpack from Brand. "Then let's get out of here."

"You got it." Brand set FP's clothing on a chair and turned to leave before the list got any longer. "I'll be back in ten, and I'll bring a doc to discharge you if I see one."

"Sounds like a plan." FP nodded decisively, but then his expression flickered as he began to sit up on the bed.

"Hang on; that didn't look good. Don't move." Brand sighed again and returned to FP's bedside. "Let me help you, old man. Don't start tearing yourself up before you're even out of the hospital."

FP hesitated, searching Brand's expression for sarcasm or mockery. When he saw nothing but sincere concern, he relaxed. "Thanks."

Jones was watching them from across the room.

"I've got this. Go shower," Brand directed. "Your father's in good hands, kid. I'm not gonna jeopardize my sweet free housing setup."

"I guess not." Jones finally seemed to stand down and he disappeared into the small bathroom attached to the hospital room.

"Easy does it," Brand said as he supported FP while he moved into a sitting position. "You're really going to work today?"

"Yeah. I won't lift much of anything since that could reopen the cut on my head, but there are other things I can do - not least of which is piloting the new arrangement and getting people used to it on the jobsite. And, honestly... I can't see sitting alone at home after all that," FP confessed.

"All right. Call me if you need anything, or if you just want some company - on the jobsite or at the house. Sarah's offered to cover for me if I need to pitch in, so don't be shy about screwing up my day."

"I won't." FP nodded gratefully. "Tell Sarah I appreciate it. Tell Clark thanks, too."

"You got it. I'll be back in a few minutes, so stay put until then." Brand examined FP's position on the bed one last time to make sure that he was sitting comfortably, and then he headed off to find some breakfast.

**00000**

Betty caught up with Jughead over lunch, but took one look at him and casually raised the subject of training with Agent Quinn instead of diving into the obvious topic of conversation.

"It's okay. You can ask about my dad." Jughead smiled gratefully, though, recognizing that Betty was trying to put him at ease. "He's doing better, and I'm fine."

"You just look tired, Juggie. Did you get any sleep at the hospital?" Betty figured that was a happy medium of asking for more detail without pushing for more information than he felt like sharing.

"I did, but not until kind of late and I slept weird." Jughead made a face. "But my dad wasn't alone in the hospital, so that's the important thing."

"Absolutely," Betty agreed fervently. "Would it be good if I came over today? I could bring you dinner. Or cook for you - even though I'm not as good a cook, of course - and give you all a break."

"That would be amazing, Betty; thanks. Probably not tonight, because Brand's already got a dinner menu in mind and he's got this whole plan for maintaining Dad's routine - whatever that means -, but can I get a rain check? Archie offered to stay over too, so maybe we could all do something in a week or so." Jughead smiled as he thought more about the idea. "We could all cook together, and make a party out of it."

"That does sound really nice," Betty agreed. "I'll talk to Veronica. If we plan a menu and get you and Brand to assist, I bet we could pull off something great."

"You're good cooks even without the help," Jughead assured her. "We're definitely available labor if you need us, though. So… tell me more about your training. I don't see any bruises, so that's a good sign."

"Agent Quinn is starting me out slowly. She's got some ideas, though. You'll have to watch yourself pretty soon." Betty grinned when Jughead gave her a pleased, suggestive glance.

"Huh. Are you planning to get the drop on me, Cooper?"

"Oh, yes." Betty smiled mysteriously. "When you least expect it, Jones."

Jughead draped an arm over Betty's shoulders and rested his forehead lightly against hers. "That sounds promising. I can't wait."

"Well, then. It's a date." Betty grinned and playfully bumped her nose against Jughead's.

"Oh, the PDA of it all," Archie intoned mournfully as he joined them at the table. "I just talked to Gunnar and Alice, and I think they're coming on Saturday for the whole day at the park. Is FP going to come? Because I think he and Gunnar might not mix well. Just a wild guess."

"Or Gunnar and Brand for that matter," Jughead added. "He's still upset you wouldn't tell anyone what happened at the Helgason's."

"He'll get over it," Archie waved a hand dismissively. "But seriously, is your dad going to make it? I think my dad's going to hang out with me if he doesn't have FP to go on rides with, so we should really work on that."

"I don't know." Jughead's forehead wrinkled as he considered the logistics. "There _are_ metal detectors."

"It will be ground zero for FBI presence, too, don't forget," Archie offered encouragingly. "You should point that out. Let me know, and then I can plan evasive maneuvers if that becomes necessary."

"I'll keep you updated," Jughead promised. "That's cool that Alice is planning to come. Is she going with Gunnar?"

Betty nudged Jughead and gave him a knowing smile.

"What? I'm just taking an interest," Jughead protested.

"He's become a one-man betting pool," Betty explained when Archie looked confused. "He's following the saga of Alice, Gunnar, and Sweet Pea like it's a soap opera."

"I am not." Jughead took a defensive tone. "I just think it's... entertaining."

"Like a soap opera," Betty repeated teasingly.

"Hey guys," Kevin approached their table as he was leaving the cafeteria with his empty tray. "Did you see Sweet Pea bring Alice lunch at Gunnar's table?"

"Really? Like, he bought her lunch here? Or did he bring her lunch from home?" Jughead asked.

"He definitely bought some of it here, but there might have been homemade brownies. Maybe." Kevin grinned as he began to move away from their table. "Let the games begin!"

Betty gave Jughead a look. "Uh-huh. So, in what way is this not like watching a soap opera?"

Jughead examined his plate and carefully selected a french fry with all of the dignity that he could muster. "I am trying to be a good friend to Kevin. Obviously."

"Yeah. Obviously." Archie laughed at Betty's skeptical expression. "We'll have to find out if Sweet Pea is planning to come along on Saturday. For Kevin."

"Yeah, exactly. For Kevin." Jughead grinned at Archie.

"Just don't get in the middle of anything," Betty said, shaking her head with a resigned smile. "It is kind of fun to watch, I guess. Something that's involved, but not too serious."

"Yep." Jughead bit into the fry with an impish grin. "And I can't wait to see what happens next."

**00000**

**I hope you enjoyed (it's kind of a hinge chapter, so more action soon!), and I hope you have a lovely weekend! And if your time is changing (and your sleep shortchanged!), may the odds be ever in your favor. :( I'll enjoy reading any and all notes as we leap into chapter seven!**

**-Button**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven! The world is having a complicated week/month/year/whatever, but as usual this story is right where I left it. I hope you are doing well!**

**Shyrider45, thank you so much for the great review! Good instincts: Clark is inspired by a few people I have known, with a number of twists that are unique to him. His habit of giving brief rants when he doesn't have quiiiite all of the information (or expertise) is a trait that he shares with Brand, though. :-D I'm so glad you loved the normal teenager moments! I'm enjoying that this story is (in some ways) beginning in a place of greater normalcy, and the adventure is pulling them away from normal life instead of growing out of their crazy situations (even if those are in the background/foreground, pushing things forward). It feels like a milestone. :) And yay for adorable interactions!**

**Living Lucid Dream, you are quite welcome! The chess tournament needed an outcome, and Clark and FP need to suss each other out... It's a start. :) Clark also needs to (eventually) catch up on the dynamics surrounding him, though I'm not sure how that will play out. His making a misstep and then getting (gently) clobbered is not the best long-term strategy for everyone. I'm so glad that Sweet Pea and Alice remain cute together - and that it was awkward but not uncomfortable! That is precisely the line I was hoping they walked, but it's so specific that you gave me much relief by describing it that way. I loved that sweet visual between Jug and FP as well, and I secretly hope that they are able to feel more solid with one another within the wolf pack even while external factors stress them... We shall see!**

**Vorlesebuch, welcome! I am so glad you've discovered the series and are enjoying it - and thank you so much for your note! I have been loving writing every part, and hearing from you was a particular treat this week. I hope you continue to like the new chapters as they come. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"FP?"

"SAC Wilson, thanks for calling me back." FP was enjoying a particularly generous lunch that he was pretty sure Fred had provided out of a sense of obligation to help in any way that he could think of. "How is your day going?"

"Fine, thank you. But this was not the arrangement we agreed on," Wilson's tone was firm, but FP could hear that she was curious and not nearly as impatient as she likely hoped he would assume. "What 'further information' do you need?"

"Well, I don't know how closely you monitor the doings in nearby towns, but I was shot at twice between our meeting and this morning. One of the bullets left a nice burn on my left arm, and I was hospitalized overnight for related injuries." FP figured he'd let her chew on that for a few moments, and sure enough there was a long silence. "Is the FBI in the habit of functioning like a protection racket? Are you maybe sending the message that I need to get in line as an asset, or else?"

"Uh, no." Aaditi Wilson was officially caught flat-footed, or so FP assumed, if she was responding to his joke as if it had been serious. "No, we don't do that. What happened? Are you all right?"

"Like I said, I was in the hospital overnight for observation, but nothing seems to be wrong with me." FP wasn't sure how long to leave her dangling, since he was fairly well sold on working with the FBI - to clear up this new case, if nothing else.

"I'm so sorry, FP. That's terrible. Do you have any idea why someone came after you?" Wilson's tone was suddenly filled with concern. "Is there anything that I can do? I assume the investigation is already underway, but my office hasn't been involved. I'll look into it, though, because maybe-,"

"I just wanted to confirm the pay rate and sign back on." FP figured that was enough of leaving her dangling for a Monday. "If everything's-,"

"There will be a substantial raise; I'll get details to you this afternoon, and I'll be sure to have someone look into the shootings today and report to me personally," SAC Wilson assured FP hurriedly.

Before he could explain that he wanted the same pay for his trouble.

"Well... you drive a hard bargain, but I have to say that's tempting." FP found himself shaking his head in bemusement. "As long as the raise is 'substantial,' I think that should be just fine."

"Great, great. I might be able to make the number a little sweeter, so expect the call after four pm. That will give me time to pull a few strings. If it sounds acceptable, let's plan to meet next Sunday, after the RA's teambuilding outing."

"Let's make it Monday." FP's counter was partly born of his unexpected enjoyment of having the upper hand in this conversation - but he also figured that now was not the time to start messing around with Jughead's schedule. "Sunday's reserved for something already."

"Monday it is. Thanks again, FP. You'll hear more before the end of the business day."

"I expected no less." FP had to chuckle after he hung up. SAC Wilson was going to work out just fine as a handler if he could keep this up.

There was only one niggling thought that gave FP pause: it was unlikely, but ultimately possible that she was so desperate to sign him back up because there was something specific that she needed him to do.

Something that would involve him earning every penny of his exorbitant rate - plus that 'substantial' increase that she was even now working to 'sweeten.'

FP couldn't think of what that might be, but the possibility kept him from feeling entirely smug about the successful negotiation.

**00000**

Jughead was dismayed to discover that Alice's romantic triangle turned out to be just one part of the day's drama.

"Keep your head down." Clark met Jughead at the door of the RA when he arrived for his shift after school. "You are not going to _believe _what's going on."

"You're here. Good. Come with me, and maybe don't tell FP that I had you lie low for the day." Brand appeared behind Clark and grabbed Jughead's left arm. "I won't lock you in or anything, but let's make an effort not to have Special Agent Phillips see you today. Or at all this week, if we can manage it."

Jughead gave Brand a skeptical look. He was pretty sure he hadn't seen the SSA who oversaw the resident agency even once since he'd begun his internship, so that seemed more likely to be a pretext than a valid concern.

"Oh, yeah - he's out of his office and on a rampage. It's bad, MacGyver," Clark assured him when he saw his doubtful expression. "But Special Agent Davies, why can't he see Jones?"

Brand was already towing Jughead toward his tiny office. "There's a huge internal investigation beginning, and it's centered on some things that just came to light from a safe deposit box belonging to Agent Russell."

Jughead's eyes widened.

"Yeah." Brand's tone was dark. "Settling an estate takes a while, but they are all over this now. And he worked in this RA a few years back, so we're under the gun along with a whole lot of other locations where he spent time."

"But what does that have to do with Jones-,"

"He was present when Russell was killed."

Clark's jaw dropped and he gave Jughead a wide-eyed look. "Are you involved in _everything_?"

Jughead merely shrugged, figuring that was a rhetorical question.

"What were you doing there? Wasn't that in another state? And wasn't he shot by another agent - his _partner_, no less - because he'd turned criminal?" Clark was almost sputtering.

"Yeah. He stole Trigger. _Dognapped _him." Jughead nearly tripped when he turned to address Clark and Brand kept pulling him swiftly through the agency.

Clark flicked Jughead's shoulder in annoyance. "Come on. If you can't tell me details, just say so. Don't make up-,"

"There are a lot of reasons why that dog is the way he is," Brand interrupted.

"Seriously?" Clark gaped at them both. "What on earth-,"

"Look, it's not something-," Jughead tried to shut down the conversation, but Brand beat him to it.

"Russell was shot and killed right in front of Jones, so we don't talk about this outside of therapy."

Jughead figured that about covered it. He still gave Brand an irritated look for good measure, but it was actually a relief hearing it said so simply.

"We kept the kid out of the headlines for once, but there's no way Phillips missed the brief on that whole incident. Or if he did, he's getting caught up real quickly right now." Brand patted Jughead on the shoulder apologetically.

"Got it." Clark was suddenly all business again, though he gave Jughead a sympathetic look. "Need me to run interference?"

"I sincerely hope _that _will not be necessary." Brand gave Clark an amused look. "Just go work, and I'll make sure Jones has stuff to do in here."

They'd reached Brand's office.

"Just remember, kid, nothing's locked. That's going to be important if your father hears anything about this later on. Are we clear?"

"Yeah, we're clear, Brand." Jughead took a seat at his godfather's desk without protest. "Can you bring me some protein bars, too?"

"Well, Clark, you wanted a job." Brand smirked. "Keep him fed, and I'll be back in a few minutes with something to keep him occupied."

"Yes, sir." Clark gave Jughead another supportive look before he headed in the direction of the kitchenette.

"So. Don't talk to anyone about anything," Brand warned Jughead soberly, once Clark was out of earshot. "The odds that this investigation goes anywhere beyond Russell are very, very low."

Jughead nodded quickly. It was logical that Donn would be implicated - and Rose - if anything serious had been uncovered, and everything about an internal investigation implied that 'serious' was the right word for whatever had been found. But Brand was right that if there was any way for Rose to shut that line of inquiry down, the investigation would not get far.

Brand looked thoughtful, though. Jughead recognized that as a bad sign, and he felt his shoulders start to tense.

"They're low, but they're not zero." Brand shook his head in annoyance as he thought things through. "So your head is down. My cellphone is on. You let me know if anyone comes to talk to you, and that includes Agent Quinn. We're talking parent or guardian in the room if things go in that direction."

"I'll call you if anything comes up, Brand." Jughead tried to sound self-assured, but he felt too off balance to fully manage that.

"Calm down; you're fine, kid. You don't know anything, and you have no contact with anyone; you're officially useless to an investigation. I'm just being paranoid." Brand must have noticed Jughead's reaction. "I made a phone call about your dad yesterday, and it seemed like things checked out."

"You did?" Jughead was surprised and relieved to hear that Brand had called Rose about the shootings.

"I'm not insane. Prime suspects one through twenty-five had to be addressed." Brand gave Jughead a look. "Everything seemed fine, so you can relax: this is almost certainly paranoia, and even if it wasn't, I repeat: you're useless. But better safe than sorry, right?"

Jughead managed a weak smile and nod, but all he could think of was the burner cell phone hidden in his room at home.

For once he really wished he _was _useless.

**00000**

"How are Veronica and Gunnar doing?" Fred asked when Archie entered the kitchen after a lengthy practice session. He was assembling a lasagna, and spreading sausage through one layer.

"We're playing together really well," Archie replied, sneaking a bite of sausage once he realized what his dad was cooking. "I think we're going to be ready for Saturday."

"That's great. I'm really looking forward to seeing you play again, and I've been curious about Gunnar's drumming. Let me know if you need anything, musical or logistical." Fred smiled as he continued to layer the meat, cheese, and noodles in the pan. "Also, would you three be interested in giving me a little feedback on some of what I've been discussing with the school? I know Veronica's been very involved with the integration of the Southside students, and you've struck up this friendship with Gunnar. It would be nice to have that sort of a cross section, so I can pick your brains."

"I guess so." Archie shrugged. "Anything interesting?"

"Maybe." Fred found himself continuing to smile, but it was more because of the absence of antagonism between him and Archie than anything they were discussing. Attending the dance together had broken the spell of the Southside High bombing and its aftermath, and - however guilty it should make him feel - Fred recognized that FP being shot at had roused Archie's protective instincts to the fore.

Things were settling, and they both recognized that they were fortunate to be working overtime to resolve things with the school and with Andrews Construction. It meant they were both still around, still healthy, and still moving forward.

"That would be cool. I think they'd like to help." Archie nodded. "And me too. I think I'm ready to help more."

"No rush," Fred arranged a layer of noodles. "But that would be nice. I'd like that."

They set the table together once the lasagna was in the oven, and soon they were talking and laughing together about Archie's tales from football and from band practice.

"Will you be home for dinner tomorrow?" Archie asked as his father eventually pulled the finished lasagna from the oven.

"No. I'll be working late most nights this week so I can take Saturday off." Fred frowned regretfully. "Want to pick a night next week, though? I'll take it off early so we can do something together."

"Okay." Archie nodded agreeably. "I'll look at my schedule. That sounds good."

"It does, doesn't it?" Fred smiled. He began to cut into the lasagna, relieved that things were better with Archie - and hoping that FP was doing just as well with Jughead.

**00000**

"Dad, how was work?" Jughead left Brand checking on the pot pie in the oven, hurrying to greet his father at the door while he removed his work boots. "Did anything happen? How are you feeling? Clark's got night classes so he'll be back late."

"Everyone loved Roger, and there were no incidents. I'm feeling just fine," FP said, giving Jughead a brief hug in greeting. "I'm going to go shower and get out of this body armor, though. It's light, but anything extra on the job is more than I really want to be hauling around."

"Put it back on after you shower, FP," Brand directed. "We've got new windows now, but we didn't spring for bulletproof ones. What does it weigh, anyway? Five pounds? Man up."

FP waved Brand off, but he nodded in acquiescence to Jughead, indicating that he would continue to wear the body armor he'd been given.

"Is Roger coming here tonight?" Jughead looked eagerly toward the front door.

"I think Tim is planning to drop by with him, yes." FP looked around. "Has Trig had a good run? I don't want him mixing it up tonight, and Roger's a working dog. Chances are they'll want to breed him at some point, so he might not like being around Trigger."

"We went for a run, yeah. And I understand completely. Trig would be a great dad, too," Jughead responded with a mischievous smile.

"Trigger is not fit to procreate." FP had already had this conversation with Jughead - more than once -, but he knew that as long as they had not made a trip to the vet, his son would hold out hope for puppies.

"You've got to admit he'd have great kids." Jughead was still grinning. "Maybe Tim knows a few female police dogs."

Sheriff Keller had been deeply concerned by the events of the last two days, and he suspected that FP's FBI-related work might have made him far more serious enemies than they were aware of. For that reason, he'd suggested not only lightweight body armor, but he'd also connected FP with a semi-retired officer who had adopted a fully-retired police dog and enjoyed taking him out to volunteer in the local community.

Apparently Tim had been thrilled about the opportunity to give Roger a more robust gig for a couple of weeks. The pair would be checking in on FP regularly and getting to know his schedule, as well as his coworkers and family, all while acting as a potent - and highly visible - deterrent to any future attacks.

Jughead was likewise thrilled; he was well aware that police dogs had a much-deserved reputation, and so he figured that it was just about the best protection possible - and the setup would be in place for at least two weeks. It was a much longer-term arrangement than Jughead had dared hope for, and he was deeply grateful to Sheriff Keller for setting it up.

"Do you want this whole thing to work out or not?" Brand called from the kitchen. "Do _not _talk that way in front of the handler. And I really don't know why you haven't gotten that werewolf fixed by now."

"He might want a family someday," Jughead returned to the kitchen as FP made his way to his room to shower. "I'm just holding off until we're sure. I mean, we haven't gotten _you _fixed, so I thought we were all being patient and seeing what happened."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that. Because otherwise I'd have to show you who's boss around here, killer." Brand nudged Jughead playfully.

"You mean my dad?" Jughead batted back more aggressively and they began tussling.

Brand pulled Jughead out of the kitchen area so that they could wrestle a little more safely, and he quickly had a fight on his hands as Jughead took full advantage of the additional space to maneuver.

"Feeling the need to work off some stress?" Brand blocked two quick blows and then adopted a defensive posture while he took a moment to gauge how gung-ho the kid actually was about the altercation.

"Watch out for the couch," Jughead warned. "You scuff it again and you'll be picking buckshot out of your hide."

Brand did a quick check behind him to make sure that he wasn't about to bring FP's wrath down on himself yet again, and Jughead was past his defenses in a heartbeat. Brand closed his arms over his godson to prevent the worst of what he was attempting, but Jughead was still able to keep him off-balance and moving into a more vulnerable position.

Thankfully Brand still outweighed the kid and, while it wasn't pretty, brute force counted for a lot in such close quarters.

"You're not supposed to-,"

"Oh _no_, the rules have been broken. Whatever will you do?" Brand taunted. He lifted the kid right off of his feet and swiped one set of knuckles roughly over damaged ribs. Jughead's protests became even louder. "Come on, kid; you need to guard your weaknesses better than that."

When he had to twist to avoid a damaging shot aimed at his groin, Brand figured he'd more than earned it. He grinned and bent Jughead's back painfully. "Is this better or worse on your ribs?"

"_Worse_," Jughead gasped out.

Brand eased up slightly, but his grin widened when it became clear that Jones had lied: Brand's relaxed grip allowed just enough space to attempt an escape - and suddenly they both had room to circle each other once more.

"Are improvised weapons still out?" Brand asked, seeing the kid's eyes do an obvious sweep of the room.

"Unless you really do want to see the shotgun tonight, yeah; we'd better not let Dad catch us breaking the treaty." Jones sounded reluctant, but he stopped scanning for weapons.

"How mad do you think he'd be about a scuffed dining room chair?" Brand asked innocently, grabbing one and sliding it toward Jones' legs in a smooth movement. Sure enough, the kid moved to avoid it without thinking - and stepped right into Brand's grip. "Aaand checkmate."

"How was that not an improvised weapon?" Jughead complained. He struggled for a few moments, but this time he had almost no leverage so he forced himself to relax and wait for an opening.

"Yeah, okay, using the chair was fighting dirty." Brand rotated one hand so that he could reach the kid's ribs again. "But I officially have no weapons at all right now."

"Brand! No!" Jughead still couldn't move much, but he couldn't keep himself from struggling futilely when Brand began tickling him. "Dad said not for another week or two!"

"Your doctor said it's fine." Brand kept it light, though, and stopped quickly.

"You asked my doctor if you could attack me and tickle me while you had me pinned?"

"Yep."

"Child protective services is probably on their way here _right now_."

"You'd better hope," Brand shot back. "Because that is the only way you're getting out of this."

When FP returned from his shower, he rolled his eyes at the clear evidence that they'd been fighting. Jughead was breathing hard and had collapsed - or been dropped - onto the couch, and Brand was very obviously keeping his distance to avoid any sneaky reprisal attacks.

"Maybe keep it to a dull roar between you two while we've got a police presence at the house, huh?"

"No can do. That's going to be weeks, right?" Brand shook his head. "They'll just have to learn the difference between training and a real threat."

"This is going to go badly, isn't it?" FP sighed. There was a knock on the door. "That's probably Tim and Roger, so behave yourselves."

"I'll get the door, FP. That body armor doesn't need testing." Brand smirked as he moved past FP.

"Bra-and," Jughead objected. "Don't even say that."

Moments later all conflict was forgotten, though, as Jughead greeted Roger.

"He's not as big as Trigger," Jughead observed as he knelt and patted the dog and allowed Roger to crowd in and snuffle his hair and neck. "He is jacked, though. Do you take him running in Fox Forest?"

Tim watched Jughead and Roger with amusement. "Sometimes. He really likes you; Roger's usually a little more reserved, but he knows a dog person when he meets one. Is Trigger around? We should let them suss each other out."

"Yeah, he's in my room. I'll get him. I'll leash him for now, too, just to be safe," Jughead offered. Roger licked his ear and Jughead grinned as he moved away and then stood up. "He's not aggressive with other dogs, though."

It was quick work to introduce the two dogs to one another, and not long after that when Brand began to complain about Trigger's playful antics as he leapt and skidded around on the hardwood floor, trying to tempt the older German Shepherd into wrestling in the living room.

"Roger's going to have his hands full with your pup," Tim observed. "The challenge will be good for him, and it might be good for Trigger as well. He'll learn some manners from Rog."

"Cool." Jughead was watching them play with fascination. He and Trigger often played and wrestled, but it was very different from what he was seeing now. "Trigger likes Vegas, my friend Archie's dog, but they don't usually play like this."

"Trigger can probably tell that Roger's an athlete - and a goofball. He only just retired from active police work; he's perfectly healthy and can be a livewire when he knows he's off duty. He'll behave as long as he knows we're working, though."

"Do you want to join us for dinner?" FP motioned toward the table. "Those two have something cooking, and there's always plenty to share."

"Absolutely; thanks." Tim grinned and stood up. "I never turn down a meal. You should show us around first, though, and let Roger get the lay of the land."

"I can do that." Jughead signaled firmly to Trigger and his dog reluctantly moved away from his new friend and toward his master. "Do you want to see the basement and the back yard first?"

"Sure." Tim nodded to FP as he walked past him and followed Jughead toward the stairs to the basement. "You have a nice place, FP, and a beautiful family. We're going to make sure that nobody takes any more potshots at you."

"Thanks." Jughead answered before FP had a chance to respond. "We really, really appreciate it."

"We do," Brand added gravely. "And as long as you're around, you can count on there being plenty of food in the kitchen. Help yourself to anything you like. We also take requests."

"Wow. Pretty fancy, Roger. Don't get too used to this, boy," Tim joked. "Thanks, Brand."

"I mean it; be thinking about what you'd like me to put on the menu," Brand assured him. "I want a list of favorites before you leave tonight."

FP looked from Jughead to Brand, relieved that they were behaving and touched that they were both trying so hard to be helpful and encouraging about the arrangement.

"You've probably learned by now that FP's kind of important in these parts," Brand added conspiratorially. "We like him in one piece."

"That's the goal." Tim raised his eyebrows at FP. "Although it sounds like you hardly need me and Rog with all this backup already in place."

"Oh, no. We need you." Jughead spoke up quickly. "We have objectively sucked at deterring attacks so far."

"Or maybe you've deterred them without realizing it - and prevented any from being successful," Tim suggested. "I've seen a lot of dysfunction in my line of work, and it's nice seeing a family that works so well together, even if the circumstances aren't exactly ideal."

FP smiled. It was unexpected to be contrasted with dysfunctional families, but a very welcome idea.

**00000**

After all of the excitement of the day, Jughead decided to wait until late - long after Tim and Roger had left for the night - to check the burner phone he'd been given. It had been a couple of days since he'd last checked for messages, and all of the upheaval at the resident agency had left him feeling a little edgy about the whole arrangement.

Sure enough, when he turned on the phone he discovered a brief message.

"Jones, I hear there are a few things going on at your resident agency. I trust you'll keep me updated with anything relevant to me or my interests. A text is fine. Also," Rose's tone turned amused, "if you're planning to go with the RA to the amusement park this week, leave before dark. I know you've had a lot of combat training, and you'll want to be careful about where those instincts might lead you."

There was very little that Jughead could think of that could rival how unexpected it was to be hearing Brand's concerns echoed in Rose's voice.

He turned off the phone and replaced it in the pocket of his backpack, and began considering strategies for keeping himself away from any information about the investigation into Agent Russell and the RA. Not that he'd been invited into it, or read into anything, but still. He'd do his best to stay as far from it as possible.

And screw Rose. He'd stay at the amusement park all night if he wanted.

Jughead hadn't thought of a plan yet for getting his dad to veto Brand on that edict, but he was confident that he'd come up with something by the end of the week.

**00000**

**Oh, it's all happening now... I hope you have a lovely weekend, and I really appreciate your reading along. I'll deeply enjoy any and all notes (woo-hoo!), and I hope you have a lovely place in the sun to relax if you are unexpectedly faced with free time!**

**-Button**


	8. Chapter 8

**This has been a bad week. Full stop. So here's a longer chapter... perhaps as a toast to never having to live through this particular week again! :-D**

**Living Lucid Dream, thank you for the kind review! FP is definitely starting to move more to the center of... something. Your suspicions may prove well founded! And yes, Agent Russell has been gone for some time and you are not forgetting any explicit mention of a safe deposit box. Your laundry list of possible issues is spot on, too - and Brand/Jug won't be getting away from that maelstrom easily. And I agree, Sheriff Keller is the best. :-D (and Brand may be secretly evil, agreed ;) Amusement park adventures, here we come!**

**Skyrider45, I enjoyed your triumphant return this week immensely! Thank you for the review, too - FP is becoming a little better at negotiating, even if this may be a more stacked deck than he is fully aware of at the moment. But he's watching for that, too, so we shall see! I loved your response to 'another dog,' BTW. :-D And the brewing continues... :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Veronica was loving every minute at the amusement park, from the unseasonably warm temperatures to the wristbands that Brand had secured for the teens to get them into the accelerated lines for the rides.

Betty had said that she was more nauseous than usual because they managed to get onto the rides in much quicker succession, but Archie had shouted her down about that being a 'fantastic' problem to have.

Which was kind of true.

And, after all of the hard work of the week, from introducing two new routines to the Vixens to coordinating with Alice on the next Northside-Southside mixer event, there was an incredibly freeing sensation connected to buckling up, sitting back, and enjoying a thrilling ride where the adrenaline had absolutely nothing to do with deadlines or responsibility.

Archie enjoyed everything about the amusement park experience, from standing in line and encouraging Veronica to lean against him while they waited - just a short amount of time, but it was still nice - to standing between her and the curious looks from the people in much-longer lines, who no doubt wondered what series of events had led them to be the lucky possessors of the more-expensive passes.

Brand had appeared a few times - just enough for Jughead to realize that he was tracking him on his phone and shut that down - first handing them vouchers for food and later encouraging them to meet up with the adults for dinner and some larger-group adventures.

"It's a trap," Jughead said dourly, even though he couldn't quite hide his preoccupation with his dad being somewhere in the park, wearing body armor (in spite of the security measures of the park itself and it being basically 'FBI day' at the park). "They'll make us split up and change ride partners, and who knows if I'll even get to go on anything else with Betty after that. I still haven't convinced Brand that I can stay past sundown. He's so overprotective. We should all turn our cellphones off and avoid them."

"Nah, man," Archie shook his head and led them the quick route from disembarking the ride back to the front of the line, his irrepressible grin reappearing as they passed winding rows of people standing in line for the same ride. "Ronnie and I play in just a few hours, so I think we should meet up and get it out of the way before they really come after us. You might be willing to fight with your dad and Brand all the time, but I'm still trying to get past stuff with my dad. I've got to throw him a bone once in a while, and honestly I barely see him these days. I can't _wait _for the investigation to be over and done with."

Veronica rubbed Archie's arm encouragingly, and rolled her eyes with a good-natured grin when Archie smiled in response and steered her toward the line for the very front cars of the roller coaster. "Well, your dad was in a great mood from what I saw this morning, Archiekins. I think he's really excited about seeing you play again, too."

"Yeah. Things are better. He got sort of… spooked. Everything that happened with Southside High, and then everything Jug and Clark and I did - and then everything was so insanely busy with the aftermath. Then he was really worried about the concept album." Archie shrugged. "He's happy with the songs, though, and I think he's a lot less concerned that one wild adventure is going to turn me into Jughead - no offense, man - so he's calming down."

"Turn you into _me_?" Jughead waved two people ahead of himself and Betty so that their position in line for the second row of cars matched Archie and Veronica's and they'd be able to ride together. "Wow, I can't even imagine that. In what way would your dad be worried about you being like me?"

"Oh, you know - I'd be all action all the time. That sort of thing."

"Ahhh. He was worried you'd turn violent, need extensive therapy, and have wildly disruptive PTSD episodes?" Jughead interpreted Archie's words dryly.

The couple who had skipped Jughead and Betty in line turned back to look askance at him.

"Basically." Archie shrugged.

Veronica gave Betty a wide-eyed look, which she returned with interest - and both were startled when their boyfriends guffawed in unison.

Apparently this was what passed for humor with them.

Minutes later, they were buckling into the ride again. Archie reached around Veronica's shoulders, since it was an old-style wooden coaster, and she leaned happily into him as the ride began clicking its way down the track.

It was a gorgeous, unseasonably warm day for late October, and as they climbed up the first hill it was hard to be nervous at all about the impending drops and turns; everything was sunny and bright, and the entire park was spread out below them.

"Oops, someone lost a sneaker over there." Betty tapped Veronica's shoulder from the row behind her and pointed. "That takes talent."

"Not as much talent as that." Archie pointed out a bra that was dangling from a support beam.

"That _is _impressive," Jughead agreed, grinning widely when Betty turned and pushed his shoulder teasingly.

"We're almost to the top." Archie jogged Veronica playfully under his arm. "You ready?"

"Absolutely." Veronica smiled, even as her stomach dropped and their car led the rest down the steep hill. The day was shaping up to be just about perfect.

**00000**

"Did Brand get us the photos too? Because that is fantastic," Archie pointed out their photos from the ride with a delighted hoot.

"Oh, wow." Veronica's eyebrows shot up and she snorted with laughter. "I can't believe you two were able to _make out_ while the photos were being taken."

Betty hid her face behind her hands, but was laughing and seemed almost as delighted as Jughead with the photo.

"I'm pretty sure Brand never even thought about getting photos for the FBI, but we're getting that one." Jughead drew Betty to his side and kissed the top of her head. "Two copies, for sure."

"We need to get one like that next!" Archie grabbed Veronica's hand and began tugging her toward the next roller coaster on their agenda for the day.

"We are going to meet up with the adults, right?" Betty asked Jughead. "I know you want to stay later tonight than Brand wants, but they might be right. That might be a bad idea. I know it's not quite like training, but-,"

"Yeah, okay. We'll meet up with my dad and Brand," Jughead conceded with a sigh. "And if they really want me to go home - alone and early -, I guess that's just how it is."

"Well. It doesn't have to be alone." Betty offered Jughead a small smile.

"Oh... really?" Jughead returned the smile, and then it grew into a grin. "I mean, I think the FBI's going to be shutting the park down. That means my dad, Brand, _and _Clark."

"So you'd definitely need help walking Trigger, right?"

"He can certainly be a handful." Jughead's eyes crinkled happily as he leaned in to kiss Betty again.

"Come on!" Archie shouted back at them from a few yards away. "We'll probably have to take a break after we stop to eat, so we need to fit rides in _now_!"

"Coming!" Jughead and Betty followed their friends toward the next ride.

**00000**

"You are not supposed to turn off the GPS in your phone, Jughead."

The adults had already gotten their food by the time the teens finally met up with them for a late dinner in the park. FP had shooed Brand away for this conversation and taken Jughead a few paces away from the group.

"I don't think Brandon's noticed yet, but I recommend that you turn it back on before he does or you're going to be facing more than just a conversation." FP gave Jughead a serious look.

"Dad, come on. Don't let Brand push you around; just tell him it's fine-,"

"Oh, no. You've got me all wrong; I'm having this conversation with you now because I know Brandon will do the heavy lifting for me if you don't fix it right away. Don't you think for one moment that I disagree with him."

Jughead sighed heavily.

"Make your own decision, boy, but then you have to live with it." FP gave him another serious look for emphasis. "That's all I'm going to say."

Jughead pulled his phone out of his pocket and fiddled with it before replacing it. "Look, for as long as I'm hanging out with you, it's a non-issue. So, later, okay?"

"Uh-uh. I'm not signing off on anything, Jug. I've said my piece, and now it's up to you."

Jughead cocked his head to one side, narrowing his eyes. "Ohhh, I get it. Your therapist thought this approach would work on me, huh?"

"And now this conversation is officially over." FP smiled and shook his head as he led Jughead to rejoin the group.

Brand eyed them curiously, but did not comment.

"So I'm with Dad for an hour," Jughead looked around at the group, "Archie's with Mr. A, and Brand's with Clark-,"

"I'm with Cooper," Brand corrected. "Clark's with Quinn, and Lodge is with Alice Carter."

Jughead looked to see what Betty's response to that was, but it was clear that she'd already been made aware of the plan. She smiled at Jughead and then grinned up at Brand, who returned the grin happily.

"Alice is around?" FP's eyes did a sweep of the group. "I didn't even know she came today."

"She and Gunnar have been hanging out." Veronica answered for the group, giving FP an apologetic shrug that made it clear that she knew he'd understand what that meant: Alice would keep her distance from the group for as long as necessary to keep Gunnar and FP apart. "Gunnar's going to do an early walkthrough without me and Archie, since he apparently has _very _specific concerns about the sound setup. Alice is going to meet up with us here any time now."

"Did Kevin make it?" Betty asked. "I thought he and his dad were coming."

"Yep," Brand confirmed. "They're not breaking for food anytime soon, though. Apparently we're 'amateurs.'"

FP snorted. "That sounds like Tom. Well, good for them. Are we all going to split up after we eat, then?"

Brand gave him a look. "Just because we came through metal detectors and you're wearing body armor doesn't mean you go anywhere on your own, old man."

"Well, then, Jug and I will stick with Clark and Agent Quinn-,"

"I'm staying with you, FP." Brand's tone was uncharacteristically mild, making the statement sound more conciliatory than commanding, but it was clear that he did not expect further disagreement.

Jughead looked from his father to Brand and back again, and opened his mouth to defend FP's position on the subject.

"Want some pizza, kid? Your voucher should be good for that." Brand jerked his head toward a vendor as he cut off the teen. "Your dad can sit right here with Quinn, Clark, and everyone else for a minute. I'll show you the good stuff."

Jughead nodded slowly, and it was obvious that everyone had realized Brand wanted to have a private conversation when nobody followed them to the line for pizza.

"I've got things covered with that phone call I mentioned." Brand spoke quietly. "But it's better if I'm the one keeping an eye on him."

"You… have to be with Dad personally? Why?"

"Just being overly cautious. I'm man enough to admit that I have trust issues."

"Okay. I guess." Jughead wasn't sure if he was relieved or more worried by Brand's abundance of caution. He'd also given a lot of thought to the fact that Brand must have called Rose before the message had been left on his burner phone - the message that had made no mention of Brand or FP.

It was starting to feel like Rose was testing him, withholding information and making requests without communicating clearly.

"And you're going to turn your phone's GPS back on before we even think about splitting up, eh?"

Jughead sighed longsufferingly.

"Hey, I only have two eyes, and if you want both of them on your dad-,"

"I'll turn it back on."

"You shouldn't stick around for the concert," Brand actually sounded regretful now. The line began to move, and Jughead shuffled forward. "I'm sorry, but you're liable to have a whole lot of trouble after dark. This is not a kid's fun house."

Jughead nodded. "Okay."

"'Okay'? That's all you have to say, killer?" Brand was suddenly suspicious. "You've been plotting all week to give me the slip, and don't try to tell me otherwise. That was way too easy. What are you planning?"

Jughead gave Brand an aggrieved look. "I'm planning to go _home_. And take Trigger out, since he'll be ready to tear the house apart."

Brand narrowed his eyes at his godson but did not comment further. "Get the bacon pizza. The sausage is good too, but you probably don't want that in your stomach in case you need a pill."

"Does Dad just tell you _everything_?" Jughead turned to look over at FP with frustration.

"Nope. That was all you." Brand smirked when Jughead's head snapped back around to fix him with a glare. "I was going to recommend that you bring a few pills, but you beat me to it so there was no need."

"What about the GPS?" Jughead demanded.

"I pay attention to things like that. You have a history of running off, and you've been giving me signals all week about this outing being an issue."

That was probably true.

"Look, I don't know for sure what hijinks you've got planned, but I'll cut you a deal. If you really want to stay later, you can stick with me and your father," Brand relented as they reached the front of the line. "You can't get out of literal arm's reach of me, though, in case something happens and I need to get in the middle of it real fast."

"Seriously?" Jughead wasn't sure how to react, so he ordered his pizza and handed over the voucher while he thought it through. He'd been hoping for this reprieve all week, but now he had plans with Betty - and Rose had been clear about preferring him to leave the park before sundown.

Jughead wasn't completely sure how seriously to take Rose's 'suggestion.'

"Just consider it my personal sacrifice in the service of keeping the teen pregnancy rate as low as possible in Riverdale."

Jughead swatted Brand's arm.

"All right. That one actually _was _FP. He had a feeling that if you went a little too quietly, it would be because of the empty house." Brand smirked as they walked back to rejoin the others. "It's almost like you two are related or something."

Jughead couldn't hide a small smile when his dad gave him a questioning look and slid to one side to make room at the picnic table between himself and Betty.

Jughead looked back at Brand, who slid into a seat across from him. "Maybe. Sometimes."

**00000**

Kevin and Alice wound up exploring part of the park together when Gunnar became inexplicably upset about something to do with the stage monitors and how they amplified the vocals onstage. Archie and Veronica had joined him in his quest to fix the sound setup, and Kevin's father had agreed to stick around with Mr. Andrews to be sure the venue took the teens' concerns seriously, which left Kevin and Alice to their own devices for a while.

"So, that sound system looked ridiculous," Kevin said as they approached a smaller ride that promised to make them a lot dizzier than any roller coaster. "I love music, but that was intense. It's not like people come here for the live entertainment."

"I don't know. I think it makes some sense," Alice considered it for a moment. "They get quite a few professionals through here, and these are not bad venues for launching people who are in their early careers. It's actually really impressive that those three are getting paid to play here."

"Okay. I could buy that." Kevin gave Alice a probing look, though, and then smiled. "Bu-ut are you defending the park's decision to overengineer the sound system, or Gunnar's audiophile ways?"

Alice raised an eyebrow. "How's Joaquin doing?"

"Touché." Kevin was grinning, though, and not at all concerned by the obvious warning in Alice's words. "Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine?"

Alice had to smile at that. "Okay. Fine. But you'd better dish, because my story includes plans to visit my mother."

Kevin's jaw dropped. "Oh wow, Alice. Really? When? And yeah, obviously I won't hold out on you. Is Gunnar going with you? He seems very happy to follow you places."

Alice made a face in response to that wording and shook her head. "He's not going with me for the visit. And he doesn't _follow _me so much as enjoy a lot of the same things that I do."

Kevin's expression became studiously neutral. "Okay. Sure. So how does visiting your mother come into all of this, then?"

"Sweet Pea's taking me."

"No. Way." Kevin's eyes widened. He held up a hand in warning. "Full disclosure: I do _not _have this much to dish about me and Joaquin. I don't want to overpromise. But if you'll give me the scoop on credit, it will not be forgotten."

Alice laughed. "Sure, Kevin. It's good to talk this through, too. Get another perspective. Just keep it quiet, okay? Like, you can tell Joaquin, but don't make it cafeteria gossip."

"It goes without saying." Kevin nodded solemnly. "Right back at you. Joaquin is still under FBI protection after all, so…"

"Of course." Alice had been amused by Kevin's implications over the last couple of weeks that Joaquin was akin to a spy or secret agent, but in this moment she could tell that Kevin was sincerely worried about his friend - or boyfriend - and she resolved to be more charitable about what looked from a distance to be a fairly performative song and dance about getting back together.

They had that in common, she realized. Much as her own situation was entertaining to her friends, that did not mean it was uncomplicated - or any less serious.

**00000**

"One more time." Gunnar was clicking his drumsticks together rhythmically between songs. It seemed likely that he was nervous, even though he gave nothing away through his tone or expression. "I still couldn't hear Veronica properly, and that means you couldn't either. Definitely not once we've got a crowd. That last adjustment might have worked, though."

"Sure, Gunnar. Once more," Archie agreed. He was actually starting to hear what Gunnar was talking about, and the idea that they might end up mid-performance without the ability to properly hear their mix of vocals was a worrying one. "Ronnie, one more time on just the bridge?"

Veronica was less patient with how long their painstaking troubleshooting process was taking, but she shrugged in acquiescence. "Why not?"

"Well, I don't know... maybe because you disagree, hear something different, have another idea, or there's something else you want us to troubleshoot first?" Gunnar set his drumsticks to the side with a brief laugh.

Archie suddenly wondered if he'd ever heard Gunnar laugh before. He wasn't sure.

"What's your instinct, Veronica? We're literally trying to hear you, so we probably ought to be listening to you too." Gunnar trained his full attention on Veronica and waited expectantly.

Archie braced himself for Veronica to turn on their drummer. She'd made it clear that she wanted Archie to take the lead on band doings and not to rely on her to organize, manage, or coordinate events and logistics - which was very fair, and she still had a huge amount of work on her plate without taking on his concept album as yet another full-time job. Putting Veronica on the spot to help troubleshoot an unexpected sound issue might qualify as relying on her too much.

Archie was shocked when Veronica instead turned to fully face Gunnar with an expression of surprise - and then smiled at him. "Yes. You _should _listen to me. But no, I don't know what to do about it, and if you're right... You really think that I might not be able to hear myself when we go on?"

"Or Archie won't be able to hear you. Either would be a problem."

"Then let's run this again. I don't want to suddenly become… well, partially tone-deaf in front of an audience."

"Or have Archie's vocals stop blending so well with yours," Gunnar added. "You've got a great mix most of the time, and we want to sound right on the money tonight."

"Yes. We do." Veronica's tone was warm; apparently Gunnar was winning her over right here and now. Archie almost felt like he should be taking notes as he watched this play out. "Where did you learn to drum? And all about sound systems?"

"Run through the bridge first, and then I'll give you the life story." Gunnar grinned, and Archie was suddenly filled with hope for the first time that the three of them might - improbably - be taking their very first steps toward becoming a real band. One where the members actually liked each other.

"Yeah, let's let the sound crew get out of here," Archie agreed. "Then fried dough - or fried oreos - or fried Snickers bars. Fried something. My treat."

"Ugh, pass," Veronica grimaced. "I don't need to eat any of that before another roller coaster."

"Need? No." Archie shrugged and looked over at Gunnar. "Want, however…?"

"I'm in." Gunnar picked up his drumsticks. "And make mine a fried Snickers bar. All the way."

"Done." Archie grinned and turned back to face his microphone.

This time they sounded the best that they had all day.

**00000**

"You're with me for this one. Back row." Brand grinned as he looped an arm around Jughead. "I want to make sure you get whiplash. Again."

"Wow, Brand." Jughead rolled his eyes, even though his dad was already giving Betty a welcoming smile and getting one in return as those two became a default pair for the particularly intense coaster they were currently boarding. "Seriously?"

"I love these crazy looping ones with the maglev launches, and I want to share my adrenaline addiction with you, kid. I also want to see if you're underweight enough that I need to be worried about you slipping out of the shoulder restraints." Brand's teasing grin grew even wider when the worker manning their portion of the ride gave him a dark look.

"Just as long as you don't puke on me." Jughead pushed Brand's shoulder as they climbed into the seats and the large steel shoulder mechanism came down and the seatbelt-material belt attached it between their legs.

It _was _all kind of loose, actually, and Jughead grabbed the metal handles on the shoulder portion with both hands as he waited expectantly for the ride attendant to help him pull the metal framework all the way down over his shoulders and to reach the loop of his seatbelt to tighten it. His legs were dangling freely, and felt exposed; he'd been on only one other maglev ride before, and it had been memorably intense.

"Leave it loose," Brand intoned quietly. "It's way better that way. More leg room."

The employee who had given Brand the disapproving glare clearly overheard him. The irritated teen checked his restraints, ignoring Jughead entirely as he cranked them down viciously on Brand before darting to the next row.

"Wow. Remind me not to joke with the seatbelt police." Brand winced in pain as he attempted working the belt so that it was slightly looser. "This ride just got a whole lot scarier, Jones."

Jughead grinned at him and began to crack a joke at Brand's expense, but in another moment he regretted looking to the side when the ride whipped into blinding motion without warning.

It sounded like Betty and FP were faring better in front of Brand and Jughead. They shouted to each other in delight through the insanely fast ramp-up and immediate flips and turns.

The ride slowed as they went into a steep climb, with all of the passengers dangling but clearly about to flip several times in quick succession once they reached the highest point of the ride. With the belt between his legs only loosely securing the shoulder restraints to the seat, Jughead was getting rattled around in his harness, so he braced himself against the motion.

And then the ride stopped dead.

"Oh, wow. I've seen this happen, but it's never happened to me before. And on a maglev one, no less. Well, I'm as secure as I'm ever going to be," Brand said wryly. "Excruciatingly so, in fact. Don't tell me you're about to fall out?"

Jughead hadn't felt insecure until that moment, but at Brand's words he suddenly felt the need to grip the shoulder restraints even more tightly. "I'm fine, Brand. I could maybe get out if I tried, thanks to your 'leave things loose' idea, but I'm not going to fall or anything."

"Of all the rides for this to happen on, huh?" FP yelled from the row ahead of them.

Betty was laughing, and they both seemed to be amused by the predicament even as a few people let out intermittent shrieks from other rows on the ride.

"Yeah, no kidding, FP," Brand yelled back. "Ever had this happen before?"

"This one time-," an unfamiliar male voice from a few rows up contributed, "-I was stuck like this for over an hour. That was at a carnival, though. Not one of these permanent parks. They'll have us down in a jif. Makes me wish I hadn't left my cellphone on the ground, though!"

"Uh-huh," Brand yelled back to the man who had interjected before he turned toward Jughead again. "Your cellphone's in your pocket, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I've got it zipped in, though, so I'm not going to lose it."

"I was just thinking about photos," Brand offered with a smirk. "Be quick if you take pictures, though, because when they do start this thing it's not going to be good for your phone to be out."

Jughead thought that sounded like a fantastic idea. He hooked his legs firmly around the base of the seat and then fished his phone out. Jughead angled the phone. "Hey, look over, Brand. I'll try to get one of us."

Brand leaned as far as he could into frame, and Jughead got a shot of them both hanging from the ride and grinning. He was putting the phone back in his pocket and tugging the zipper closed when the ride lurched forward a few feet before halting again.

And then it remained still.

And remained still.

"Man. What did that guy say about it being over an hour? Do you think they'd let us climb down before then, Brand?" Jughead pointed over to the walkway alongside the track they were hanging from. "I can basically reach the steps from here. I could kick the platform, at any rate."

"They'll only unload us if they absolutely have to, kid." Brand was amused. "And there is no way you could kick that walkway. The safety regs would never allow it on a ride like this. People would be losing feet on a weekly basis."

"Want to bet?"

"Bet what? I have everything I could ever want from you. Your undying gratitude, the perpetual cleaning of the bathrooms at home-,"

"Well, maybe that's what I want from you," Jughead shot back immediately. "If I can touch it with my boot, you clean the bathrooms for a month."

"If you can't, which is inevitable by the way, I want you to stop complaining every time I borrow your car." Brand smirked. "You also have to do all of the dishes until your father's back in fighting shape."

They'd taken over doing the dishes to spare FP's arm any pain or slowed recovery, even though the physicians had deemed it an unnecessary gesture.

Jughead narrowed his eyes at Brand and then reassessed the distance between himself and the walkway. "Deal."

Brand leaned back to watch, but soon had reason to worry. "Hey, wait a second - what are you doing?"

Jughead was shifting in his loose harness, angling his body so that his right leg could reach further. "This is how it's done, Brand. Sucker."

"Is that so?" Brand could see before Jughead that it was not going to work. He bit back a laugh and continued to watch Jughead squirm and contort in his seat. "You're close. Keep going; let me see your best efforts, kid."

Jughead glared at Brand. "Okay. Best effort, here we go." He reached down and pulled his knee up as far as he could, and then found that he could reach his bootlace.

"Hold on." Brand was suddenly concerned with where this was going. "Don't be losing your boots on this thing. Those are the ones you begged for after you saw Clark's, right?"

"They're really comfortable _and_ they're appropriate for work," Jughead responded with the line that had finally sold his dad on getting him the boots to replace his worn dress shoes. "I'm still breaking them in. And they have _really_ long laces."

A few moments later, with his boot adjusted so he'd gained a few more inches of reach and then severely tightened so it would not accidentally fall off, Jughead was triumphant. "Ha! You'll be awfully busy with those chores now, Brand!"

"What are you two _doing_ back there?" FP had finally caught on to the fact that they were messing around. "What is that banging noise?"

"Your son re-laced his boot to win a bet." Brand sighed. "He's kicking the walkway."

"Well, get it back on! People lose shoes all the time on these rides, and you'll be paying for the next pair if you lose one of them here. We're - what - twenty stories up? You'll never get it back." FP was trying to shift in his seat so that he could see Jughead.

"I'm not going to lose it." Jughead kicked at the walkway once more, for good measure. "I tied it super tightly. It's just on weird now, but I couldn't get it to fall off if I tried."

In that moment the ride lurched forward a few feet before coming to a halt once again.

And Jughead's bootlace snagged on the walkway and pulled tight.

"What just happened? Get your boot off of there." Brand scowled. "They're going to start this ride back up again any second, and that bootlace is strong enough that if they whip us forward with it attached to anything you could get seriously hurt."

"Calm down. I'll get it unhooked." Jughead kicked a few more times, but his brow knit when he realized that it wasn't budging. "Hang on."

"Is it stuck?" Brand's expression shifted from annoyed to worried in an instant. "Hey, seriously, kid. They're going to start us back up, and this thing packs a punch. Your dog is not equipped to be a service dog. Get it unhooked, or you need to lose the boot right now."

"What?" FP twisted in his seat again.

"Are you okay, Juggie?" Betty was trying to see back now as well.

"Um, yeah." Jughead tried to twist the boot in case the lace might come free if it was pulled in a slightly different direction, but that wasn't working either.

"_Lose the boot_. You can ask about getting it back from the walkway later, since it will be somewhere a worker can reach, but you need to get it off. _Now_. I'm not pushing you around in a wheelchair, kid." Brand's tone was getting more worried.

"_What_?" FP repeated, contorting even further in his harness. "Jughead, get the boot off right now!"

"I _can't _get it off! I tied it really tightly." Jughead looked around at Brand, for the first time starting to feel nervous. "Nothing's moving yet, though. Give me a minute."

"We may not have any warning before-," Brand was suddenly struck with inspiration. "Wait, you had your phone, kid. FP, do you have yours? Call down right now. If he can't get free, we need to call to the ground."

"Seriously, Brand. I just need another minute-,"

"FP?" Brand cut off Jughead's objection firmly. "Call down."

There was a long silence. The ride remained mercifully still.

"Hi, yes, my son's stuck on the Gator Roll coaster right behind me, and he's got his _boot_ caught on the edge of the freaking ride. Can you send someone up? And stop jerking us the hell around while you're at it, or I'll be personally throwing you off a building into a twisted mass of cables the moment I'm off of this death trap." FP wasn't quite bellowing into his phone, but Brand didn't envy whoever had taken the call.

"Jughead?" Betty called forward fearfully. "Are you…"

"Brand is completely overreacting. I'm fine, Betty. I only-,"

The ride jerked once again, and this time Jughead was yanked down as far as the harness allowed.

"_Brand_? My leg's caught. I'm stuck. There's no more room." Jughead was suddenly realizing exactly what Brand had been afraid of. "If the ride moves again-,"

"Oh you have got to be kidding me." Brand's tone became frantic. "FP, they _cannot_ move this ride again!"

FP's threats were increasingly creative and colorful.

"Hey, do you have anything metal on you? Keys? Maybe we can cut the lace. We'll have to figure out how to reach it, but-," Brand sounded like he was fighting to maintain a level tone.

"That's too far. I can't, Brand. I won't be able to reach. Anyway, I'll be fine right here, as long as nothing moves again." Jughead didn't think he was as freaked out as Brand, but he felt his heart racing dangerously as he groped through his pockets. "I guess I have, uh, my house keys. The key ring has a chunk of metal, and-," Jughead groped up behind his head. "Wait, does this release the seat?"

"We are _twenty stories up._" Brand's eyes went wide. "Do not touch _anything_ that might release your seat!"

The ride groaned and moved forward again.

"It _hurts_, Brand!" Jughead cried out in response to a shooting pain through his right side as his leg was twisted mercilessly around the unyielding metal of the ride.

FP began hollering into his phone, clearly galvanized by hearing Jughead's yell of pain.

Jughead felt like his leg muscles were pulling apart slowly and excruciatingly under the extreme tension. He grasped at the release above his head and jammed the key ring blindly into the mechanism.

"_Jones_!" Brand barely managed to grab Jughead's elbow as the teen's seat released and the tension on his leg pulled him almost completely off of the ride. "_Why would you do that_? What _possessed_ you to do that? Don't move; I've got you, and I'm positive that they're sending someone up after you right now."

That theory seemed to be confirmed by the appearance of three employees scrambling up the ride's steps from the far side of the peak, all making their way toward the narrow walkway.

"Oh, thank heavens. They're coming for you, kid." Brand watched the employees' speedy progress up the ride. "I'm not going to drop you; you're okay. Just breathe. You're okay."

Jughead glared at Brand. "I _know_. I'm fine now that I got the seat open. I can climb over to the walkway and get my boot free."

"Don't even think about moving." Brand tightened his grip on the kid's elbow.

"He's right next to the walkway, yes! That's literally the problem," FP was continuing to holler into his phone. "But he's being ripped limb from limb by your - I'm not sure you're understanding what I'm-,"

"Dad, I'm _okay_ now." Jughead yelled back. "My leg isn't trapped in the seat anymore. It's just the stuck lace, and I think I can climb down from here."

"Jughead, hold on. Wait for them to-," FP's words were cut off by a deep gasp when he saw that Jughead was making a grab for the walkway.

"Jones, I _just _said not to do that. They're coming to get you!" Brand let go of the teen's elbow, not wanting to be the reason he fell, but made his displeasure known.

"I'm good. I can make it." Jughead had been in an awkward position with his boot stuck in the walkway, but once he had a firm grip on the steel supports, it was simple work to haul himself up onto the narrow steps and then pop the lace free. He quickly adjusted his foot in the boot and loosened the laces. "I can just walk down. Are you okay, Betty?"

"Don't you dare try to get to your girlfriend!" Brand sounded like he was torn between panic and fury. "Stay right where you are until someone gets to you."

"I'm fine, Juggie. Are _you _okay?" Betty sounded worried, but less frantic than either adult.

"I now officially know what vertigo is." Jughead laughed briefly. "We should re-watch some Hitchcock this weekend."

"That is not funny, boy." FP seemed to have gotten off of the phone. "Grab onto something and don't move."

The employees reached Jughead and one radioed down that he had him in hand. "Yeah, he's fine. But he released the seat. We're gonna need a reset on the back row, seat two."

And, right on cue, Brand's steel shoulder restraints released and he was falling out of his seat.

"_Brand_!" Jughead was immediately on his hands and knees, reaching for his godfather before anyone could stop him. "Grab my hand!"

Brand cursed loudly and with all of his heart before he realized that he wasn't actually falling. The belt between his legs was jarringly painful as he slipped off of the metal seat and the fabric strap took his full weight - and, while it was precarious, Brand was profoundly grateful that he'd been leaning over to the side much farther than he should have been, in an attempt to hang onto Jughead. That was the only thing that had spared sensitive anatomy, and by some miracle he wasn't actually falling all the way out of the ride. Yet.

He wasn't sure he could get back up onto the seat without risking falling, though. "Let me guess. You didn't actually mean to call down about seat two."

It seemed likely that the employee radioing down that he'd gotten to Jughead had been the impetus for his seat being unlocked. Not that any semblance of that logic had occurred to the wildly shrieking people on the ride ahead of Brand.

Fighting powerful vertigo as his body swung slightly over the immense drop, Brand looked up as he inhaled deeply to replace the air he'd expelled in shock - and then he felt like he might be having a full-on heart attack when he saw his godson leaning so far off of the platform.

"Hey! I'm still - sort of - strapped in. Get back on that walkway, Jones," Brand shouted up at Jughead, "or so help me, I will-,"

"The belts aren't actually rated to hold your weight like this." Up close, the park employees looked improbably pale and young. Maybe even as young as Jones. They also looked terrified.

"Have you confirmed that with an actual adult?" Brand asked skeptically. "Because I really don't want to-,"

"Come _on_. Right now, before something gives!" Jughead leaned out even further.

So, even though Brand suspected that the crack team of youthful employees were grossly mistaken about the belt's safety rating, he gave in and reached to accept the kid's offered hand.

"You are not in an action movie, Jones. You are helping me reach the edge of the walkway and then you're getting back against the railing. You are _not _trying to pull me up," Brand growled.

"Just don't fall, Brand. It's a really long way down." Jughead looked far paler now than he had when he'd been the one in danger.

"That was shockingly not part of my plan for today."

Brand only needed a little assistance to reach the edge of the steel walkway. The motion made him profoundly dizzy for a second time, but he found that the kid's method of grabbing the walkway, using one hand to slip free of the ride, and then hauling himself up was effective. In moments he was being crushed in a hug.

"I'm fine, Jones. Are you okay?"

"I was fine the whole time. Until you almost fell." Jughead's breathing hitched.

"I did not almost fall." Brand ruffled the kid's hair reassuringly, though he was pretty sure that Jones could hear his heart pounding through his chest. "I only climbed up here because these guys told me to. I was completely safe with that seatbelt."

"Don't let go of him, Brandon." FP was contorting in his seat again so that he could see up to the walkway. "I'm coming, Jughead. Don't move."

Jughead frowned worriedly at his father. "Are you going to try climbing up too?"

"I think everyone gets to walk down, kid," Brand patted his head. "Nice work."

"Oh." Jughead's voice was small as he realized what he'd done.

"Alrighty. Let's get you down before your dad comes up here after you, huh?" Brand looked around at the sweeping vista of park rides below them. The sun was setting, and it was quite the view. "Just a guess, but I think you'll both be safer having that particular argument on solid ground."

"Please don't do that." One of the employees reached for Jughead.

Aaaand the kid was taking photos on his phone.

"Jughead?" FP called up anxiously from the ride. "Do _not_ give them any trouble. Just fix your boot and get down with Brandon; we'll be right behind you."

Brand blocked the irritated employee with his arm, feeling a sudden rush of protective anger. "Back off. He's not on social media, and let's be clear: your park employees neglected to properly secure a ride that stalled, and then you nearly dropped me on my head from skyscraper heights." Brand's tone turned dangerously threatening. "So we'll just walk down in a second, after Jones has had a chance to enjoy the view, eh?"

Jughead grinned and snapped a shot of Brand against the dramatic backdrop before tucking himself under his godfather's arm. Brand squeezed Jughead affectionately, and then they began their descent, with Brand gripping the hand rail and Jughead taking photos from time to time.

"What do you want to ride next?" Jughead asked as they neared the bottom. "Or should we try this one again? We didn't really get the full experience."

Brand snorted. "Maybe you didn't. I certainly did. Anyway, they're going to have to shut this coaster down for a while - and I thought I'd be sending you home with your father."

"After a stupid accident?" Jughead was aggrieved. "No way! I've been waiting forever to come here again. And we have the good passes for once. I'm staying."

"You're really interested in getting on another roller coaster after that?" Brand regarded him seriously. "I'm not saying that's a bad thing. It's just... not like you."

"Scarred for life. All the time. I know." Jughead leaned into Brand's shoulder as they continued down the walkway toward the ground. "But I'll just make sure my shoelaces are tied properly from now on. I don't think I even need a pill for my ribs after all that. Seriously, I don't want to leave."

"Duly noted. I guess you can stay, as long as FP signs off on it." Brand pulled Jones a little tighter against himself with a proud smile. "You were cool under pressure up there, killer. A lot calmer than me or your dad."

"Well, you helped. Thanks for grabbing me."

"That's the job, Jones. Keep that in mind when you someday have a godson who's just like you." Brand smirked at Jughead's skeptical expression. "Thank you for helping me reach the walkway. Don't tell anyone, but I got a pretty good dose of vertigo for a second or two."

"Seriously, right? And, you know, any time." Jughead looked up at Brand. "You're pretty impressive at swearing. I've never heard you go off like that before."

"Nor shall you again, Lord willing." Brand sighed with a rueful smile. "I wasn't a sailor, but I picked up a few things along the way. None of which is suitable for polite company."

"I won't tell Agent Sarah, don't worry. It didn't sound anatomically-,"

"Shut up, Jones."

Jughead smirked and Brand couldn't quite suppress a smile of his own.

They both greeted Betty and FP when they reached the bottom of the ride.

"Jughead, you're safe." Betty looked to FP to make sure it was okay for her to approach Jughead first, and then she pulled her boyfriend into a hug. "That was _awful_. I'm never getting on a roller coaster again."

"Oh, no. Don't say that." Jughead held Betty close. "I think we should get right back on. Brand votes that it not be this one right now, but another would be good. Back on the horse or whatever. Come on, what do you say, Betts?"

"Why don't you give us a minute to recover first," FP suggested. Betty stepped back and he pulled Jughead roughly into a hug. "You scared me, boy. Don't you ever do that again - and you stay right where you are if help is on the way." FP paused for a moment before continuing. "But hey, thanks to your seat having a release mechanism that you could operate, not to mention your godfather's near demise, we've already been offered season passes for next year. And I think that's just their first offer."

"No kidding? Sweet." Jughead pulled his father closer and felt his residual tension dissipate as FP gripped him tightly. "How's your head? And your arm?"

"I'm okay, Jug, even though body armor is - strangely enough - not designed for being worn comfortably on roller coasters. Other than that, I'm perfectly fine. I nearly had an aneurysm when you went back for Brandon, though."

"Same here, old man. I thought my heart was done for." Brand shook his head. "It was brave, Jones, but let's not do that twice."

"Okay, then let's go on something that doesn't dangle our feet," Jughead conceded willingly. "A wooden coaster? We haven't done a lot of those today and they're fun."

Betty looked nervous, but she nodded. "That sounds doable. I kind of wish we had to wait in line, but-,"

"We'll walk slowly," FP offered, smiling sympathetically at Betty and stepping back from Jughead. "I think we could all use the breather."

Jughead draped an arm around Betty as they strolled through the park. "I took some pictures at the top. You should have heard Brand when they tried to stop me; he was all threatening, like a lawyer. And did you hear him swearing?"

FP and Brand exchanged glances as they watched Jughead proudly show Betty the images on his phone.

"There went a few more years of my life." FP shook his head ruefully. "I can't believe he took _photos_ up there. He feels so safe with you, Brandon. That whole thing - I've seen Jughead have panic attack after panic attack, and that was... He was just so calm, even while hanging over a twenty-story drop."

"Um. Would you change your tune if I said it was probably my fault that he got into the mess in the first place?" Brand shrugged apologetically, avoiding eye contact. "I may have made a bet with him."

FP snorted darkly. "It's tempting. But Jughead makes his own decisions, and it's about time I stopped blaming you for them. Besides, he shouldn't have been falling out of that seat regardless of what he was doing." FP gave Brand a sidelong look. "Sorry, but you won't be able to sell me on this one being your fault, Brandon."

"Oh. Okay. Never mind then." Brand blinked in surprise. "Uh, you should know that he's planning to stay with us after it gets dark." Brand figured this was as good a time as any to fill FP in. "I told him he has to remain within arm's length of me at all times. It was insane how calm he was up there, agreed, but I'm not planning on pressing my luck with someone potentially grabbing him from behind."

"Okay." FP nodded once. "I can live with that. And thank _you _for grabbing him, Brandon. I know he probably wouldn't have fallen, but... it was good that you were there, just in case."

"You don't have to thank me for that, FP." Brand ducked his head, taken aback by FP's generous response to the incident. "He's my godson. If I can keep him from falling, or even just make him a little safer, I'm always going to."

FP gave Brand a sober look. "I'm also glad you didn't fall. When your seat opened, that was… disturbing."

Brand smiled and patted FP's shoulder before leaving his hand there for a few moments. "Thanks, FP. That means a lot, coming from you."

FP smirked, but did not push Brand away.

"Uh, Dad? Brand?" Jughead caught the attention of the older members of the wolf pack and pointed out a group of park employees who were hurrying in their direction. The younger workers who had climbed the ride to retrieve Jughead had disappeared immediately once they were all on the ground, but the employees who were now approaching them looked more mature. And professional. "They look upset."

"They're probably trying to determine liability," Brand offered. "I'll tell 'em you're with the FBI and that we won't press charges. I might tell them you're trained in parkour, too, so they're not so upset about your dramatic escape from the ride."

"Nobody's going to buy that," Jughead laughed. "Will they?"

"Hey, not so fast," FP countermanded Brand, but with a smile in his voice. "Let's hear what they have to say first. Who knows? We might be set for an entire lifetime of roller coaster rides."

Jughead perked up at that idea. "Yeah. Maybe. That would be awesome."

"Special Agent Davies?" A man who appeared to be in charge hailed them and seemed relieved when Brand nodded in confirmation of his identity. "I was sent to find you. We have a situation."

"I can help too," Jughead immediately offered. "I know parkour."

"Hey, knucklehead, I think they're looking for the real FBI." Brand shushed Jughead before turning back to the park employees. "What's going on?"

**00000**

**Aaaaand darkness hasn't even fallen over the park yet! (yeah, I'm having too much fun with this story... ;) Well, it's the weekend and I hope it's a lovely one for you and kicks off an even better week. I'll enjoy any and all notes as things begin moving into position to get very tangled in our next chapters. :-D**

**Stay healthy!**

**-Button**


	9. Chapter 9

**This week was not like the previous week... Which is SO good! Thank you so much for the encouragement, too - there's nothing like things being insane during a time of staying at home to underscore (read: play on LOOP) exactly what has gone wrong. **

**And there is nothing like reviews, a week of good sleep, and a new chapter to make things feel like they are all going to be okay. :-D**

**Skyrider45, thanks so much! I really enjoy writing the amusement park, and it makes me so happy that you're enjoying it also - and not feeling that vague sense of "sort of, but it seems off somehow." And hey, the scariest thing I've written? I'm not sure I should be quite as proud as I am about that, but it feels great to hear! :-D I find that bone-deep feeling if I think about it on a ride, too, and I'm so glad it translated. Yay for more park! And a situation! And for at least part of today being amenable to being outside (my way of fighting cabin fever - take it all outside for a bit). I'll look forward to hearing your thoughts!**

**Living Lucid Dream, thank you so much for the extra long review. It cheered me up immensely, and I really loved hearing that Jug/Betty's chemistry is appealing! I'm always shy about writing romance, but they make it easier (and I'm getting practice, slowly but surely!). :) I'm looking forward to seeing more Alice and Kevin as well; they are somewhat similar people in my mind (if not always on the page, thanks to circumstances), and ought to make great friends. We'll see how it goes! Between that and the band, a lot of relationships are taking small steps in fun directions that make me smile. :) I loved your narration of reactions to the roller coaster! Brand should pay up (maybe even do the dishes as well) after all that, I agree. Brand and FP are finally locking into a healthier dynamic, too, and I'm curious about what they'll be capable of as a real team... and we may find out... as things continue to tangle! ;)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"We are definitely getting lifetime passes. Maybe even the good passes." Jughead watched smugly as Brand left with the park employees to learn more about the 'situation.' "Unless it's, like, Clark throwing up or something and they need Brand to come claim him from lost and found. If that's the issue, then we're not getting anything. We'll probably end up owing the park money."

"Come on. Let's decide what we want to do before Archie plays. That's coming up pretty soon now." FP watched Brand leave with a slight frown before he began to usher Betty and Jughead in the direction they'd previously been heading. "Brandon will sort out whatever they've got going on and then he can find us."

"Or…" Jughead flourished his phone, "we could all turn off our GPS and see how his tracking skills are holding up these days."

"You are in quite the mood." FP smiled at him, relieved that Jughead had not been upset by the adventure on the roller coaster - and enjoying the teasing at Brand's expense.

Jughead gave his father a confused smile. "Not really; I think this is my normal mood, Dad. Should we find someone else so we've got four people, or just go on some stuff with three?"

"Three is fine. We'll make it work." FP waved Jughead forward with Betty, but he was potently distracted by what Jughead had just said: that this was a normal mood.

A normal, teenaged, invincible-feeling mood where he chafed against parental oversight and safety precautions.

In fact, come to think of it, Jughead had expressed embarrassment about both Brandon and FP lately - about them showing interest in the opposite sex, and about them trying to keep him out of trouble. All of that was a far cry from Jughead's previous habit of seeking them out and watching their moods closely to ensure that he had their protection - their backup - at all times.

Jughead had even been downright mouthy all week about being told that he had to leave the amusement park before dark. FP was also pretty sure that he'd instigated the training fight with Brandon on Monday evening, before Tim had arrived with Roger.

Something _had _changed, but Jughead might be right: it was possible that it was a move toward normalcy, and not further away from it.

FP shot one more glance in the direction Brandon had disappeared. He was eager to confirm his impressions of Jughead with him, but for now he'd have to wait.

**00000**

"Then he said he was going to follow them, and he took off." Agent Quinn rolled her eyes, clearly expecting Brand to back her up in her frustration.

"How long ago was this?" Brand spared just a thought for the ingredients in the shrimp stir-fry he'd made with Jones and Clark the previous evening.

Because both interns were now acting like they'd had a monster dose of steroids and then been aimed at the amusement park.

"Thirty minutes? Forty?" Sarah checked the time on her phone. "That's when I asked a park employee to help me find you, before anything escalated and had the FBI's name stamped all over it. It took them long enough. They claimed that you were being evacuated from a stalled ride that someone was falling out of."

"Uh. Okay. Wow. People will say anything to get out of the hot seat." Brand figured that was a conversation for later. Or never. "What were they wearing?"

"Face paint and a lot of black. Jeans and jackets."

Brand held up a hand. "Have you ever been to one of these?"

"No." Sarah gave him a look as if he were stupid.

"Right. So you just described literally everyone. Tattoos? Gait? Something you've been _trained _to look for?"

"They were wearing face paint." Agent Quinn looked a little embarrassed now. "I wasn't really thinking in terms of other identifying features. They were staying out of the way so they wouldn't be seen, but they were dressed so conspicuously - at least for now, I guess, when the park isn't packed with actors."

Brand frowned. It was possible that Clark had just disappeared in pursuit of entirely unidentifiable costumed people in the park. "Maybe it would be easier to just look for Clark."

"Unless they've jumped him and left him somewhere, unconscious or restrained."

"Cheery." Brand sighed deeply. "But possible. I'm not thrilled you witnessed them egregiously bypassing the primary entrances to get a duffel bag-," it had been thrown over a fence, "-and according to the workers who brought me here it's 'impossible' that these are employees of the park pulling a stunt."

Apparently Clark had spotted the four costumed men receiving the bag over a tall fence in the park, and he'd taken off after them before Agent Quinn had had a chance to tell him not to. He had not responded to texts or calls since, and it was quite likely that he'd turned his phone off entirely.

"Impossible?" Agent Quinn's tone was dry.

"My sentiments exactly, but let's trust them on it at least being unlikely. For now." Brand rubbed a hand over his face. "And we've got FP to worry about, since he's a hot target for some unknown shooter. We've got Jones, who's been used as leverage against his father more than once. We've got Kevin Keller, who is dating a witness that is under protection leading up to a gargantuan trial. We've got an assortment of FBI personnel who could be targets for anything and everything - including violence that isn't specific to them as individuals."

"Should we evacuate? Send people home?"

"You saw some adults in costume most likely sneak some booze over a fence, Sarah. This isn't great, and I don't like that Clark went after them and hasn't been seen since, but it's been half an hour. We're not at that point." Brand frowned. "We are, however, at a point to get a search going for Clark. Tap a few of our people and I'll ask the park employees what they have in place for finding a missing kid or whatever. Heck, we'll call it looking for the smugglers who sneaked in contraband under guise of being actors for the haunting, but that still sounds like a fool's errand to me. We're looking for Clark, and you can tell our people that from the word go."

"Yes, sir." Agent Quinn gave Brand a tight smile, but it was sincere. "I think that's wise."

**00000**

"I thought we weren't red teaming," Agent Williams complained. "It figures Davies would spring this on us. He thinks this is SERE school or something."

"This is not red teaming." Agent Quinn shook her head firmly. "Davies had no idea anyone was sneaking a bag into the park, and Clark going after them was something nobody could predi-,"

"Has he spent a little too much time around Davies? That Canadian yahoo has poisoned even the _good _intern at this-,"

"_Williams_." Sarah cut her off severely. "I will write you up if you don't stop talking."

Three other agents were standing in a loose cluster, watching this exchange uncomfortably.

"Sorry, Sarah."

Williams did look sincerely apologetic for her outburst, but the damage was only accumulating day after day as she held onto her grudge against Brand, and Sarah was not at all sure that she was going to be able to prevent them from colliding at some point.

Maybe even soon.

**00000**

"Clark, I can't sneak away." Jughead leaned over the water fountain, but this was going to look very conspicuous very quickly. "It's getting dark. My dad would kill me."

"Jones, there are exactly two possibilities here. Either people have sneaked supplies into the park to do something nefarious-," Clark paused mid-sentence, and Jughead realized he'd heard him react to his choice of words and stifled any further huffs of laughter, "-and you'd better stop laughing at me, because the other possibility is that Special Agent Davies is red teaming us after all."

"Brand is not red teaming the RA." Jughead took another sip of water from the fountain to try to appear at least slightly less suspicious. Betty was using the restroom, but FP was only about fifteen feet away, sitting on a bench. "He was told by the higher-ups that red teaming was never going to happen."

"That's what he told _us_, Jones. And then he told you to leave before dark." Clark's voice was alive with intrigue. "I'm just saying it's a possibility. And we could be the ones to crack the whole thing wide open."

"Well, that is not a way of getting on Brand's good side." Jughead frowned. "If he is red teaming the RA, then we'd screw everything up if we got in the middle of it. Especially if we 'cracked it wide open' before he got the agents to mount a response or whatever."

Clark was silent for a few moments. "Good point. Well, let's just hope they're real criminals, then, so we don't get in trouble."

"Yeah, like _that _makes a whole lot of sense."

"Can you lose your dad when you go to the concert? Archie will understand. We really lucked out that Special Agent Davies isn't with you; I can't see you giving him the slip."

"Maybe. If I can get away, where should I meet you?" Jughead took one more sip of water. His dad was standing up from the bench, so it was likely that Betty had just reappeared.

"Text me. We'll go from there. Maybe I'll turn on my phone GPS so you can track me."

"All right. It's a plan." Jughead slipped his phone back into his pocket and rejoined his father just as Betty arrived.

**00000**

Clark was astonished by how much of the park was starting to fill with costumed actors for the haunted portion of the night. He had a clear bead on the four men he was following, though, and had taken note of enough identifying characteristics that he was certain they would not blend into the crowd from him - even though they clearly assumed that they would be essentially invisible to anyone else trying to find them.

When the four ducked behind a facade of an old west building, Clark moved close enough to hear them talking but not be seen.

This might not be red teaming (or maybe Clark was specifically excluded from the red teaming if it was), but it sure felt exciting.

"Donn said that if we go anywhere near the Jones kid, we won't get paid a dime. He wasn't supposed to be in the park at all, but for some reason he's here and sticking close to his father. That means-,"

"The Harlow guy. We have a description and a photo, so he shouldn't be hard to find-,"

Clark scrambled away as his breathing accelerated and he worried that might give him away. He pulled out his cellphone with shaking hands and began texting Jones again.

'We're in! It's red teaming. I'm literally the stated target, and the four guys doing it were told BY THE FBI to stay away from you. Davies is RED TEAMING us.'

A few long moments went by, and Clark kept a watchful eye on the four men who were still conferring. If he turned the tables and stalked them, they'd never find him in the park. The RA would win by default. A change of clothing and general appearance would be useful as well, but for now his plan was simple: he would not let them out of his sight, and they would have no opportunity to sneak up on him.

Jughead's text arrived: 'I'm going to kill Brand. I can't believe he was going to send me home and let you have all the fun. Also: you got a death threat. So this is kind of mean.'

'Jones. This is the FBI, and we're adults (mostly). It's realistic that he used current events for the scenario.'

Clark thought for a moment and sent one last text before turning his phone off: 'I'm going to try to change clothing. Maybe get hold of a costume for the haunted stuff. I'll text you in fifteen minutes with my location, but I'm going to follow the four red team guys so they have no chance of finding me. Expect that I'll be on the move and use the GPS app - I'll turn that on when I text you again.'

**00000**

Brand was irritated to find that Clark had his phone's GPS turned off as a matter of course, thanks to his paranoid streak.

Which might be justified at this moment, but never mind that.

Brand dialed Jones directly. "Kid?"

"Yeah, Brand?"

Great. The kid was surly for some unknown reason.

"Look, Clark's gotten himself into the middle of something. If you hear from him, get his location and let me know right away. Stay with your father for now, since I need to deal with this. Go to the concert, and then stay in large crowds until I can meet up with you. Avoid any of the more 'haunted' portions of the park. Got it?"

There was a long silence. "I think so."

"What do you mean, you 'think so'?" Brand demanded. "This is not code, Jones, and it is not complicated. I can't be worrying about you taking your parkour on the road when Clark's already gone rogue. Stay put."

"I heard you the first time."

"And I want to hear you _say _that you'll stay put. One more weaselly answer and I'll be locking you up in amusement park jail." Brand assumed there was a location somewhere on site for unruly or inebriated people, though that might just be a racetrack thing. "And keep your phone's GPS on."

"Okay, okay. It's on."

"All right. Good. You call or text if you hear anything."

"I've got my phone."

Brand frowned, not sure if he should call that out as being a 'weaselly' answer. He was probably just being paranoid himself, and Jones was almost certainly intentionally attempting to irk him - and Agent Quinn had just reappeared.

"I don't have time to fight with you, so please just be the adult that we both know you're typically incapable of being."

"Uh-huh." This time Jones' sarcasm was obvious.

Which meant they were back in familiar territory. That would have to be enough.

"Don't make me regret letting you stay in the park. I'll find Clark and then meet up with you as soon as I can. Keep your dad safe for me until then, killer. I'm counting on you."

"Okay, Brand." Jones sounded like he'd softened a little. Good.

The phone disconnected.

**00000**

Jughead stared at his phone.

Brand wouldn't be cheating by getting Jughead to narc if he was red teaming the RA. And the more Jughead thought about it, the more obvious it was that Brand would never set Clark up in a training exercise after the intern had received a legitimate death threat from Agent Donn.

It had been easy to be irritated when Brand first called, based on what Clark had said was going on. But now Jughead wasn't so sure that Clark was correct.

And the more he thought about Agent Donn sending Clark a threat, the more something bothered Jughead. Somehow, some way, Clark had gotten information that made it sound as though the FBI had targeted him - and explicitly said not to go near Jughead.

It might not be Rose. But it might be the next worst thing.

And that gave Jughead an idea: if he could just get in the middle of things, then anyone who had been told to stay away from him would be forced to leave Clark alone too.

It was half-baked at best, but it was the only plan he could come up with on short notice. It would have to work.

**00000**

"Come backstage with me." Gunnar lifted one shoulder in a disarming shrug.

"That only sounds slightly better than a van down by the river." Alice laughed. "Why?"

"You'll enjoy it more if you're right in the center of the action. I know you'll appreciate it, too, and you'll have good notes for us after." Gunnar motioned toward where Archie and Veronica were disappearing into the backstage area. "All the cool kids are doing it. You're with the band, Alice."

"I guess I am." Alice couldn't help but smile at that idea. "All right. I'll come roadie or whatever."

"Band manager," Gunnar corrected. "Or something like that - something with input and authority, but who does way less work than managing."

"Oooh, I like the sound of that. I'll work on the job title." Alice followed Gunnar. "Thanks."

"You are going to give me valuable impressions, and that will more than pay your way." Gunnar suddenly seemed shy now that he was getting what he'd hoped for. "Next time maybe I can include you in some of the decisions beforehand, and then you'll have even more to comment on. But impressions are good."

"Impressions _are _good," Alice echoed agreeably.

"I'll get you some water. I'll be the one to play roadie tonight, since you're doing me the big favor." Gunnar grinned. "Thanks, Alice."

"Remember me when you're on the cover of _Rolling Stone_," Alice called after Gunnar as he disappeared in search of water. She looked around at the dark backstage area with its scrawled graffiti and its worn, this-wood-has-lived texture. It should have felt dark and dirty, like a dive bar, and anything alive probably should have been exterminated.

But instead it felt electric.

And when a man and a woman who were clearly working hurried past, neither looking at Alice as if she were even remotely out of place, she decided that she could really learn to enjoy being with the band.

"Water." Gunnar reappeared moments later, flourishing a chilled, sweating water bottle. "I've got a chair for you, too, but I'm hoping you'll want to be up and moving during the set."

"We'll see." Alice accepted the water and adopted a light, teasing tone. "I guess you'll just have to move me."

Gunnar gave her a more intense smile this time, looking both determined and inspired by her words. "I'll do my best, Alice."

**00000**

"He's good!" FP yelled to Jughead and Betty. They were cozily entwined, Jughead standing behind Betty while resting his head on her left shoulder, and both were enjoying hearing Archie and Veronica perform again - this time on quite the stage, with fantastic professional lighting and sound. "And the songs do sound better plugged in."

"Totally!" Jughead yelled back. He handed Betty his phone and unwrapped his arms from around her shoulders. "Can you hold this for me? I'm going to hit a restroom. I'll be back in a minute."

Jughead thought he'd been perfectly casual, but FP's eyebrows shot up. "You can't wait another five minutes? I thought this was supposed to be a relatively short set."

"Just wait right here, Dad. Nobody's going to attack you during a concert, and I'll be back in a few minutes to protect you."

"Nope; not gonna happen. Nice try, but I'm going with you. Betty, can I please have Jughead's phone?" FP's expression had gone from confused to suspicious. "We'll be back in five minutes."

"Only girls go to the bathroom together," Jughead protested - belatedly realizing that continued resistance was a tactical error when his father reacted.

"That's it. Something's up. I'm texting your godfather." FP unlocked Jughead's phone and began to type.

"_Fine_. You can come, Dad - just don't text Brand. I'll explain, but you have to come right now or I'll be late." Jughead made a grab for his phone but his father held it out of reach.

"I'm coming too," Betty said firmly.

"You both have to stay back," Jughead warned, exasperated as he led them away from the concert and crowd. "Clark's doing something, and he needs my help."

"Clark's in on this?" FP began to type on Jughead's phone again.

"Dad!"

"Don't argue with me. Brandon's going to track us with your GPS and we'll just see what this is all about."

Jughead sighed. Clark was going to kill him.

**00000**

Clark had secured a costume and was feeling reassuringly incognito as he continued to stalk the four men through the park. His GPS was on, he'd texted Jones, and they should be able to meet up soon to strategize further. It was dark now, and fog machines were making it hard to see much more than a few feet ahead at a time.

Which was why Clark rounded a corner and had to pull up short when he found all four men facing him, arms folded.

"Uh, excuse me," Clark decided in an instant to bluff his way past them. He was, after all, in disguise. "I've got to get to-,"

When the men grabbed him roughly, Clark was immensely grateful to Special Agent Davies for the Krav lessons he'd been given over the past week. Clark was able to break free and even landed a kick before he began to run.

And then his whole body rebelled, and Clark felt himself go rigid - and then fall limply to the ground.

He was looking up at the men when they approached, and embarrassingly heard a four-letter word come out of his own mouth when the two began to manhandle him up and off of the ground while another put away the taser that had dropped him.

"Gag him. We need to find somewhere we can bleed him quietly." The fourth man grabbed Clark by the hair and clamped a hand tightly over his mouth while the taser guy began pulling strips from a roll of duct tape.

Clark sincerely hoped that they were just really dedicated red teaming professionals.

And that Jones had received his last text message.

**00000**

"Sarah, we may have found him." Brand rubbed his eyes and chuckled with relief. "You said that Williams was suspicious that I was red teaming the RA? Well, apparently Clark thought the same thing and tried to recruit Jones to help him take down the smugglers. FP found out about their master plan, and he's hot on Clark's trail with Jones and Cooper."

"Jughead and Betty are with FP, in pursuit of these guys? That's not great." Agent Quinn frowned. "What if they're dangerous?"

"They're grown men who most likely brought booze into an amusement park while dressed for Halloween. Let's get to FP first, haul Clark back from the brink, and worry about a park security breach later. Or maybe leave that to the park." Brand had a hard time getting worked up about this now that he had more information. "It sounds to me like Clark just got a little too excited."

"Uh, one other thing," Sarah held up her phone apologetically. "SAC Wilson's here. She caught wind of the search for Clark and she's concerned about PR issues. Word is that she wants everyone to freeze where they are until she gives further instructions."

"Okay." Brand shrugged agreeably. "Let's say you freeze and I'll get to Clark. Once I've got eyes on him, we'll stay right where we are and get you a location. That way you won't get in any trouble, and we don't have to worry about Clark doing anything he shouldn't."

Sarah nodded. "Sounds good. And be careful, Brand. Just in case."

"You bet." Brand shot her a cocky grin and was rewarded when her reluctant smile broke through in response. "Keep the fuzz off of my tail, and I'll make you dinner tomorrow with Jones as thanks."

"I'll do you one better and make sure that SAC Wilson never finds out that you referred to her as 'the fuzz,'" Sarah retorted, her smile widening. "Get out of here, Davies. Clark's a little too mission-minded for me to feel good about all of this."

"Yeah. True." Brand saluted Agent Quinn as he left.

**00000**

**Okay. Cliffhanger for sure. No denying it this time. But what will they _have_ for dinner? ;) I hope you're wrapping up a good week, and embarking on a lovely weekend. I'll enjoy any and all notes immensely as I work on chapter ten. :-D**

**May you all have health and happiness this week!**

**-Button**


	10. Chapter 10

**Wow, this week conspired to distract me from all of my duties. That was fun! I hope you're finding it helpful and not just overwhelming to suddenly have free options all over the internet to learn, enjoy, and do things. (and here I am, cheerfully contributing to our delinquencies... :-D )**

**Living Lucid Dream, thank you - I enjoyed your review immensely! I'm glad that Jug's shift toward somewhat normal teenager behavior is making sense, and agreed: GPS ON. :-D Brand probably needs more scenes involving him at work, because he does have these fun dynamics that come out here and there, and I suspect that garden variety coworker chat would be revealing. Maybe soon. :) I am so glad you continue to like Gunnar! I love my OCs too much, and it's always a relief to hear they're contributing and not getting in the way of the story. :) And yeah... Clark walked straight into serious doings, so a super-fast escalation was probably inevitable. This was not one of Jug's stumble-into-something-and-everyone-reacts situations where it develops more gradually. We'll see if he makes it out safely! :-D You made me laugh with your reaction to the WORST plan, too. He's got his logic, but perhaps Jughead takes after Brand when he panics: things devolve speedily. People are watching him, though, and actually communicating with each other. It's a whole new world! :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"Will you come with me after we pack up?" Gunnar wasn't even fully offstage before he was grabbing Alice by the hands and twirling her. "We should see if there's any adrenaline left in either of us. Go on anything and everything. Shut the park down, you and me."

Alice could not deny that she was feeling just as (or perhaps only 'almost as'?) energized as Gunnar by the amazing set she'd just experienced from only a few feet away.

"Count me in!" Archie was suddenly there as well, and Veronica, both laughing. "Otherwise I'm going to need to run ten miles or something. That was-,"

"That was incredible." Mr. Andrews stepped forward from where he'd been watching backstage as well. "It was - I mean - you're a professional, Archie. You all are." Mr. Andrews gestured to include Gunnar and Veronica.

"Technically, I guess." Archie grinned. "We got paid to play, and that's the definition."

"And I think that may not be the last of our being paid to perform," Veronica contributed. "If that was in any way an audition for more gigs, we are so in - I think we knocked it out of the park."

"Go celebrate. Have some fun while the park's still open," Mr. Andrews urged. "I can oversee things here and get everything packed up."

"Really? That would be amazing, Dad. Where's Jug? We should all go hit the rides together and do this up right." Archie looked around.

"Betty won't want to miss it," Veronica agreed. "Weren't they standing somewhere over there?"

"I don't know. I don't think I saw anything but a blur of faces for most of the set." Archie's grin was still widening. "I feel amazing. Do you think it always feels this good?"

"It couldn't. It's impossible." Gunnar was moving restlessly now, spinning a drumstick in one hand and then twirling Alice again. "Or nobody would do drugs."

Alice laughed. "You're acting like hard work and a whole lot of luck didn't go into making this incredible. I think people do drugs because they wish that they were you, right here and right now. Not everybody gets this experience."

"You do, though," Gunnar suddenly looked worried, "right? Like I said, you're with the band. This is your night too, Alice."

"No drugs will be necessary, don't worry," Alice confirmed, laughing again. "Man, you are right about the adrenaline. Let's find the others and do something! I am so full of - I don't even know what."

"Vim and vigor," Gunnar pronounced. "I'm pretty sure that's what this is."

"I'll text Jughead and we'll just go," Archie decided. "They can catch up. There's no time to waste."

They headed into the night, Kevin Keller falling into step with congratulations once they exited the backstage area, to resume their tour of the roller coasters.

**00000**

Jughead tried to explain again, but his dad wasn't listening. Or else he was willfully misinterpreting everything Jughead said. It was really frustrating.

"So Clark took off after some criminals, told you to keep it a secret and sneak off to meet him by tracking his phone's GPS, and you thought 'Yeah, that sounds smart. Someone shot my father and sent a death threat to Clark, and I'm still injured, but why not make it two against four?' Real smart, Jughead."

Jughead sneaked a look at Betty, who looked torn between sympathy for him - and sympathy for his dad's position on the subject. Great.

They were tracking Clark's phone GPS since he'd turned it on for Jughead, and it seemed to lead toward a haunted house - but toward the back of it, and not the area that was just getting ready to open for the evening.

A costumed park employee scuttled into FP's personal space, pacing him menacingly for a few moments before Jughead's dad turned to fix him with a glare that had the actor raising his hands in submission and hurrying away.

"And if one more ghoulish employee comes at me, I will not be held responsible for-,"

Betty's shriek startled both of the Jones men. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Someone had apparently gotten a little too close to her.

Betty was reaching toward a man in a ragged top hat and artfully torn suit who was backing away from her swiftly. "I didn't mean to- but you just came out of nowhere, and- are you okay?"

"I'm fine, miss. Just, uh, here." The man groped in his pocket and produced a glowing pendant. "Wear this, will you? Nobody else will come near you. Don't tell anyone I gave it to you, though - we're supposed to charge ten bucks."

"Hang on." FP held up a hand to stop the man's retreat and pulled a twenty out of his wallet. "Got a couple more of those?"

The man handed over two more and FP secured one so that it was visible on his back and then did the same for Jughead. "They really like to come up behind us, and that's the bigger issue for right now."

"Uh, Dad," Jughead peered at the app on his phone. "Clark's GPS signal is gone."

"He turned it on so you could find him. He wouldn't turn it off, would he?"

"Not willingly." Jughead's expression fell as he absorbed the ramifications of his own statement. He took off running.

"_Jughead_!" FP sprinted a few steps after him, but then stopped and turned around to face Betty. "Get Davies. Send him to that building we've been heading toward, and make sure that he's armed."

Betty nodded and was pulling out her phone when FP ran off into the night.

**00000**

"They _what_?" Brand was jogging while he spoke on the phone to Betty. He actually wasn't far from where the warrior queen was directing him, but this was sounding very bad. If SAC Wilson wanted to avoid problematic optics, jogging wasn't going to cut it.

Brand hung up the phone and took off at a full run, blessing Agent Sarah silently as he did so. She'd suggested that he carry his service weapon in the park like the rest of the FBI, mostly for solidarity, even though he wasn't under the same requirements as the other agents.

That might save the RA a whole lot of egg on their faces if Brand needed to stop some sort of confrontation between Clark, Jones, and some petty rule-breakers who had balked at the steep prices of the amusement park's libations.

Brand could only pray that he'd be in time to stop whatever it was that Clark and Jones had cooked up.

**00000**

Betty made it to the building just behind the others, but hesitated there. She wasn't sure what she could contribute, and didn't want to get in the way. It seemed foolish to just stand around outside, though.

Clicking on her phone's camera app, Betty pulled up the flashlight feature as well. She might as well document whatever they were up to, just in case that came in handy later.

After all, this seemed ominously like the kind of situation that could lead to a lawsuit, and footage might prove useful.

**00000**

Clark grunted behind his gag. His muscles were still protesting the tasering, and he wondered if his assailants had exceeded the recommended settings for training scenarios when they'd taken him down.

This was a severely unpleasant sort of red teaming setup; it might be that the FBI felt the need to take this sort of thing seriously, but Clark would really appreciate a little less verisimilitude.

Especially since he'd been dragged into a dark, cavernous utility portion of a building, forced to stand shakily against a steel support pole, and then duct taped so tightly and thoroughly against the metal that he could barely move.

Clark's eyes followed the four men as they rifled through his wallet, looking from his ID back at him as if to make absolutely sure that they had the right person duct taped to a pole, and then as they stomped on his phone. Again, this all seemed unnecessarily realistic. Clark was going to see that Special Agent Davies reprimanded them as soon as the red teaming was done.

Or else this wasn't red teaming... and it actually had everything to do with the death threat that Clark had received.

Clark closed his eyes for a few seconds and was embarrassed to hear a whimper in his own throat as he was forced to face facts: that was quickly becoming the more likely explanation for his predicament.

When one of the men pulled out a small switchblade, Clark found himself desperately hoping that Jones was on his way and that he had broken his word - and gotten the whole of the FBI involved.

"Make it quick, and don't worry about any mess. It'll just look like part of the costume if you get drenched, and we'll be out of here in no time."

Clark felt the whine rising up in his throat again as the man strode toward him purposefully. He shook his head and his hair fell in front of his eyes as he tried mutely to persuade the man not to hurt him - but that was as much as he could manage with his body so strictly taped in place.

The man did not even hesitate when he saw Clark's distress and frantic protests.

Clark jerked his head back from the knife and the pole clanged dully as his skull cracked into it.

"This is going to be disgusting." The man holding the knife grimaced and stepped to one side of Clark while raising the blade to the opposite side of his captive's throat. "Try and bleed that way, will you?"

Clark screamed bloody murder through the tape gag, knowing he wasn't likely to get another chance to summon attention - help - anything.

And suddenly a flashlight appeared in the dim area, just as Jones dropped from the dark rafters above them - directly onto the knife-wielding man.

Clark felt tears spilling over his face as the knife fell away from him and the man who had been holding it was taken to the floor and viciously attacked by the younger intern.

There were still three other men, but by the time it occurred to Clark to worry about them, it was obvious that FP Jones had also arrived.

And that FP was very angry. He had also managed to procure some sort of blunt weapon.

"_Everybody freeze_!" Special Agent Davies' voice rang out in the echoing space. "Jones! Stop beating that guy to a pulp. I've got my service weapon, and I've got everyone covered. Hey, FP, you too. Stop - uh, what are you _doing_? Cut that out. He's very sorry for whatever he did."

"He was pulling a knife to attack my son," FP answered roughly, his voice straining with continued exertion. "You can take a walk if you want, Brandon. I could use another five minutes with this guy, and the other two are down for the count."

Clark blinked another round of relieved tears from his eyes and tried to see past the flashlight that was blinding him to Special Agent Davies, because it sounded like he was trying - with only partial success - not to laugh at whatever FP was doing.

"Brand, they were going to kill Clark. I think they're the same people who came after Dad." Jughead stood up over the groaning, severely injured man he'd been thrashing and kicked the knife far away into a dark corner of the utility room.

Clark tried to take a deep breath through his nose, but his breathing seemed to catch in his throat and he choked. He coughed as well as he could through his nose and then managed a deep breath.

"Oh crap, I need that knife. Sorry, Clark. Don't suffocate. If you lose your airway, just scream like hell and I'll help you. For now I'm going to find the knife." Jones moved away into the darker portions of the large room.

"Why would you think that they're the same people who-," Special Agent Davies suddenly took a couple of defensive steps backward. "Jones, _stay back_. FP, get away from that guy. I want all four covered, and nobody in hostage range. Move it, old man. If Jones is right, they're a whole lot more dangerous than we were thinking."

"Are you _filming _this, Betty?" FP was slightly out of breath as he spoke, but he was moving to obey Davies.

"Yes." Betty sounded the least shaky of anyone. "In case anyone questions the facts later."

"Uh-huh." FP sounded surprised, but also admiring. "That's not a bad idea."

"I've got the knife!" Jughead proclaimed proudly. "Can I untie Clark?"

Clark nodded emphatically, but then Special Agent Davies spoke up again.

"Give me a minute to get backup before you go anywhere near the guy you trashed, kid. We're not taking chances with this turning into a hostage situation."

That seemed fair. Clark tried to keep that in mind as Davies made a series of phone calls and the minutes ticked by as they waited for Agent Quinn, Williams, and even SAC Wilson to arrive before Special Agent Davies came over to join Jughead.

"All right, kid. Let's cut Clark loose. Quinn wants to talk to your girlfriend about the footage she took, so I think they're leaving now to figure that out. What's this?" Brand reached to lift the glowing pendant from Jughead's back.

"Dad got them so we wouldn't accidentally kill anyone who works here."

"Oh. Smart. Okay." Brand let it drop back against his spine. "Although you're very lucky that nobody spotted you with that thing around your neck."

"I'm not an idiot, Brand. I tucked it under my shirt, and it only fell out while I was taking down the assassin who was trying to hurt Clark. Can you get his gag? You're better at that." Jones knelt down and started slicing the tape around Clark's legs.

"You got it. Hold still, Clark. I'm not going to hurt you." Davies smoothed Clark's hair so that it was back out of his eyes and gave him a sympathetic look before he began slowly and gently working the tape away from his face.

"We're going to knock those guys into the middle of next week for touching you," Brand continued talking to Clark as he worked, pausing to make eye contact from time to time. "You're going to have to tell me exactly what happened, but for what it's worth I'm seeing good things. You got a costume from somewhere, which was a bright move. And you evaded these four for at least a couple of hours. Something is very wrong about all this, and you need to actually _call _me next time something like this comes up, but otherwise... I'm impressed."

Clark was surprised by how much of a relief it was to hear that from Special Agent Davies. He was overwhelmingly mortified by his mistakes now that he wasn't staring down imminent death.

"You should breathe with him, Brand. Make sure that he doesn't hyperventilate. Trigger and I can sleep in your room tonight, Clark." Jones offered, stopping his progress with the knife for a moment so that he could pat Clark's left knee reassuringly. "We'll make hot chocolate and watch movies."

"Uh, maybe. That's my room too, you know," Davies interjected as he continued to slowly pry the tape gag free. "I think you're breathing okay, Clark, but let's make sure you keep that up. Slow and even, and just focus on me and Jones right now. It's a good thing you shaved today, too. This is coming off fairly cleanly."

FP came over and crouched next to Jones. "Jughead, we need to talk."

"Later, Dad. Clark's still tied up, and we're trying to keep him calm."

"Oh, I got that. Loud and clear." FP's voice was frustrated. "I _also_ saw you come flying from wherever you'd climbed to attack one of four armed men - while he was holding an open blade."

"Time was of the essence. We needed the element of surprise, and I knew that you were right behind me."

Clark wished that Davies had the tape off of his face, because he had some contributions he wouldn't mind making to this discussion.

"The wolf pack doesn't do solo rescues, Jones," Davies weighed in firmly. "You need to coordinate with us when you're trying something. We work best together, and that means all three of us. Your father, rest his soul, did the right thing."

Both Jughead and FP gave Brand a look.

"Bless his soul? I didn't mean that he was dead. What's that southernism?"

"Yeah, that wasn't it, Brand." Jones was cutting through the last of the tape around Clark's ankles. Finally. "I'll get your wrists next, once I have some more light. I don't want to cut you by accident."

"Easy does it." Davies was pulling the last of the duct tape off of Clark's face, and at the same time reaching to support some of his weight. "Are you okay? You seem really shaky, Clark."

"They tasered me."

"Oh. Ouch." Brand's expression twisted sympathetically.

"Seriously? What does that feel like?" Jones asked eagerly.

"Not good." Clark was starting to feel exhausted as his muscles continued to protest the simple task of holding him upright. "They must have spotted me, because they got the drop on me. I fought them and nearly got away, but then they tasered me in the back."

"Badass." Jones grinned at him. "One against four is crazy, Clark."

That felt good to hear too. "Thanks, MacGyver. And thank you for jumping in when you did. No offense, Mr. Jones; I know you're not thrilled that he-,"

"No, Clark - that... came out wrong. I'm not saying Jughead should have let you get hurt or that it wasn't worth the risk. I'm saying that he should have gotten help _sooner _so that it didn't come to this." FP took the knife from Jughead and felt carefully around the duct tape on Clark's arms before cutting his forearms and wrists free. "There you go. I'd much rather it had been me or Brandon dealing with the switchblade. That's all I meant."

Clark was finally able to bring his hands up to his face and wipe away the tears that were still clinging to his eyelashes and cheeks.

"Come on; sit down before you collapse." Davies lowered Clark carefully to the floor. "They probably hit you with a lot of charge. You'll be unsteady for a while, but it's not likely to do any lasting damage."

Clark nodded, relieved to hear that.

"What made you so sure that they were red teaming?" Brand figured that he should find out that much at least before working with SAC Wilson on coordinating with local law enforcement.

"I thought…" Clark rubbed his forehead wearily. "Well, they said something about someone named Don. My mind went straight to former SAC Donn, which was obviously really stupid."

Brand frowned. He seemed to be thinking things over and then he glared down at Jones, who gave him a worried look in reply and a helpless shrug. "No; don't act so innocent, kid. Nobody's buying what you're selling. We'll be having a long talk later."

Clark looked between the two of them in confusion.

Brand stood up, shook his shoulders out as if he was very tense, and he gave Jones one more warning look before he strode away to rejoin the rest of the FBI and help deal with the situation.

"Brand's... paranoid. You can just ignore him. Come here," Jones said. He scooted up alongside Clark and draped an arm over his shoulders. "I'm gonna stay right here until you feel up to walking. Brand's going to need to help the FBI, and-," Jones dropped his voice to a stage whisper, "-I could really use a buffer with Dad right now."

Clark looked at Jughead. It was a little awkward, but also reassuring. And he _was _still unsteady. Also, Jones might not be wrong: FP looked like he had a lot more aggression left to work out, even though he was rolling his eyes in response to his son's statement.

"Sure. Thanks." Clark relaxed into the younger intern.

"Any time, Clark." Jones hugged his shoulders tightly for a few moments. "Wingmen for life."

**00000**

"How do you do this all the time?" Clark was sprawled on his cot and Jughead had taken over the foot of Brand's bed while his godfather searched his movie streaming services for something 'palatable' to watch together.

Trigger seemed to intuit that Clark needed attention, and he was nosing up against his shoulder while Clark scratched behind his ears.

"Do what exactly? I don't get tasered and then nearly murdered often, Clark, if that's what you mean," Brand responded dryly.

"But you risk it. And you walked right in there tonight to protect me and Jones and FP from the assassins." Clark sighed. "Maybe I'm not cut out for FBI work after all. It's disappointing, but-,"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up just a second. Nobody is 'cut out for' getting attacked, subdued, and violently threatened." Brand sighed and set his laptop aside so that he could focus his full attention on the conversation.

"It is not a qualification to have no sense of self-preservation, either. You are becoming a valuable resource as you get more training and education, and even by making mistakes and learning from them. You thought _you _were scared - SAC Wilson probably came close to losing her cookies when she realized the investment we've made in you might not pay out."

"Yeah, right." Clark stared up at the ceiling. "She's just mad that I took off alone."

"You ever think about why that might be?"

"PR nightmare?"

Jughead and Clark had received quite the lecture from SAC Wilson - and a firm promise that the lecture would continue on Monday - before they'd been sent home for the night, so that was not a guess.

"Besides that. She wants you on the short list for hiring." Brand waited for Clark to process that.

A moment later Clark was sitting up eagerly on his cot. Trigger jumped up to follow his unexpected movement, licking Clark enthusiastically as he pushed the dog back from his face. "Are you serious?"

"I'm your only competition, Clark, so I wouldn't get too-," Jughead began before Brand cut him off by pulling him toward himself and forcing him into a loose headlock. "Brand, let me _go_. Trig will eat you alive."

"Knock it off, Jones. That's not true and you know it. He only gets upset if we're standing up and training, or if you get too whiny and he decides you need rescuing." Brand smirked when Trigger gave them a suspicious glance but then returned to licking Clark when Brand tousled his godson's hair before allowing Jughead to worm his way free and return to the foot of the bed.

"And hey, most interns don't get job offers. I shouldn't be telling you this, Clark, so keep your mouth shut about it, but Wilson's serious about getting you on payroll in the new year, and that plan didn't change tonight. So buck up."

"Yes, sir." Clark looked dazed for a few moments, and then he looked worried again. "But what if I crack up? What if I'm so worried about getting hurt or killed that I'm not functional-,"

"Once again, I'm serious about healthy fear not being disqualifying. What, do you think Williams would have held up any better?"

"Uh… yeah." Clark looked at Brand like he was crazy. "She's super tough."

"The only person I would trust to come out okay from what you went through today is Jones." Brand was silent for a beat to let that sink in. "I don't think it would be pretty, but I know he's good for it. Now I know that you are too. Nobody else is on that list."

Brand stopped to consider for a moment. "Maybe FP, but after Michigan I don't know that he's always good about loss of autonomy. I should tie him up again sometime to information-gather."

Jughead snorted and fell backward dramatically on Brand's bed. "I'll start planning your funeral. You thinking bagpipes? It will definitely be closed casket after Dad gets through with you."

"Calm down, kid, or I'll put you in a real headlock. And hey, if you behave maybe I'll let you help tie FP up for practice. Anyway, Clark, what I'm trying to say is that you were able to give me information right away, sit quietly with Jones until you got your sea legs under you, debrief with Wilson, and then walk out under your own power. You're here wondering how valuable you are to the FBI instead of shaking and rocking in a corner. You've got a backbone that's got nothing to do with false bravado."

"You think that _Williams _would-,"

"She'd have peed her pants and required an ambulance. Except she'd never have made it out alive, because she wouldn't have set up a dead man's switch with Jones like you did with your phone's GPS." Brand had decided that he was impressed once he'd gotten past being angry about their rogue actions. "And for the record, you can officially assume that nobody will ever red team you. You've more than passed any tests."

Clark raked a hand through his hair.

"I totally want to be you when I grow up," Jughead offered, seeing that Clark was not yet convinced. "Crazy smart, emphasis on the crazy. And totally down for anything that comes along, no matter how unqualified you are to actually handle it. Even your car is-,"

"Hey." Clark interrupted Jughead's teasing, but he grinned. "Don't knock the car."

"By the way… The boots are a lot deadlier than you mentioned," Jughead said.

"Oh yeah, we didn't even get to tell you about that." Brand laughed. "I'm going to find a movie now. Tell him the story, Jones, and figure out what you two want for snacks. Do you think your father's planning on joining us?"

"He has to finish talking to SAC Wilson on the phone first, but I think so." Jughead quirked his eyebrows at Clark as he prepared to tell the story. "So, we actually had a ride stall on us today. It was taking forever, so I got bored. Then Brand was saying…"

Brand smiled over at the interns before he returned to skimming the movie options. They were actually in some trouble, even though Brand was pretty sure that he could shield them from any fallout at the RA. SAC Wilson was certainly going to have words with Brand again before things died down, too.

But in his opinion those two were getting closer all the time to being full partners, both at work and at home. And he was darn proud of them.

**00000**

**It's all coming together... :-D I'm really enjoying writing the 'down time' scenes, too, and I hope you're enjoying them as much as I am! I also hope you get some lovely down time of your own this weekend. Notes are loved and appreciated, too - I'd say even more because of social distancing, but I'll be real: I always love reviews, and might have already been right around max enjoyment of them. ;)**

**I hope you are able to stay safe and sane!**

**-Button**


	11. Chapter 11

**Fanfiction is never cancelled. :-D Seriously, I think morale is pretty great among those who have such lovely online outlets. Thank you for reading, and even more for your unfailingly generous notes!**

**Thank you so much for the kind review, vorlesebuch! I'm so glad you are continuing to read and enjoy. You are quite welcome! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. :)**

**Skyrider45, thank you for the double review! That was fun, and I agree that FP is far more on top of things. I also love how much everyone's just enjoying the fact of roller coasters being featured in the last couple of chapters. Adrenaline junkies for the win! Clark's going to need some time to wrap his head around everything, but I'll be interested in seeing how he joins into the action as everything comes together... and wow, yeah, productivity is a very weird thing these days. It's there and then gone, and the things that get done REALLY THOROUGHLY versus the tasks that take eighteen times longer than usual are... unpredictable. To say the least. I am enjoying seeing everyone learn to bake bread, though, unless that's unique to people I know. (I suspect it is not)**

**Living Lucid Dream, I really enjoyed the concert afterglow too. :) I also love your sense that certain elements are there for a reason and likely to come back again... :-D I am so glad that Betty's brief altercation with the employee rang true to you as well! I still want to collect more stories from haunted experiences (that was fantastic!), but your nod makes me pleased with how that played out in the chapter. :) And yes, "Holy butts" indeed. This story's arc is having its fun, and part of it is a tendency to just go for it. We've got some big dogs who aren't messing around, and will not be ignored. The growth and changes for Clark and Jughead are complex (and interrelated, since they're buds), so I'm hoping it makes good logical (and intuitive!) sense as things continue. I'll look forward to your faithful reviews and insights, and hearing how that goes! :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"I'm not spying on my son." FP was beginning to see more of the picture that had led to his insane pay increase - which was everything that Wilson had promised and more - and he was not liking it one bit. "Brandon I'll spy on. I'll tell you anything you want to know right now, in fact. He's not shy, and he gets obnoxiously chatty at night."

"Nobody is asking you to spy on anyone." SAC Aaditi Wilson sounded exhausted, but also as though she had become resigned to this pattern of discussions with FP. "I'm just asking you to let me know if you happen to learn anything about Agents Russell or Donn, or anything else that might not have made the official files regarding Michigan, Toronto, or the Southside incidents - or any information related to the attack this evening, or on you earlier in the week. Nobody thinks that Special Agent Davies is unworthy of his clearance or position, and nobody thinks that Forsythe is even capable of subterfuge."

FP made sure not to react in any way to that last statement.

"There is some question in my mind about whether Davies has developed some contacts that he does not fully understand the value of, and whether Forsythe may have witnessed or become aware of something that he doesn't realize is important."

"You should sit down with them, then." FP hoped that sounded forthright and not dodgy.

"Davies' citizenship is not a problem, per se. But it is complicating. Your son being underage and an intern makes him more easily classified as 'a problem.' Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"Don't call him that," FP's words were almost a groan of exasperation. "I am sick and tired of hearing how everyone else is inconvenienced by Jughead's mere existence. He's working as hard as he can, and it is not his fault that-,"

"I only mean that I can't be bringing him in for discussions as easily as I could, say, Clark."

"Or me." FP sighed.

"That's right."

"You want me to passively collect information? Nothing sneaky, and no leading the jury? No entrapment whatsoever?" FP figured he might as well give in and just carry on with business as usual if Wilson was going to push this.

"You don't need to be searching sock drawers, hard drives, or internet histories," Wilson confirmed. "Just let me know if something comes up, and we'll call that good enough for now. Again, this is not a case of anyone suspecting that there's a conspiracy - or anything being intentionally hidden. If it's there, I trust that it will eventually come up."

"Okay." FP would not be holding his breath, and he hoped that Wilson would not either.

"Thanks, FP. And thank you for showing restraint this evening."

FP had not killed the armed man who had been making moves to attack Jughead with a knife.

He was impressed that Wilson recognized that as an act of restraint on his part, since Brandon still thought his alternative of beating the man senseless and doing his best to ensure that he would never father offspring had been appropriately brutal to the situation.

"Uh-huh. Don't test me on that again."

"The FBI does not anticipate the interns being endangered again anytime soon." Wilson's voice had a tinge of a smile now. "And we would not dream of testing you. How are those two doing, by the way?"

"Can you hear them?" FP held the phone up toward Brandon's bedroom, where Jughead and Clark were howling with laughter over something. He brought the phone back to his ear. "They're with Brandon. My guess is they're either telling stories or playing with the dog."

"Wow. That's incredibly refreshing to hear," Wilson said sincerely. "I'm glad they're upbeat and doing so well; Brandon's a generous mentor, and he really has a touch. Thanks again, FP. Have a good night, and tell the interns I send them my best."

"They'll be delighted," FP said wryly.

And, he reflected as he hung up the phone, it was true: both Jughead and Clark liked SAC Wilson a great deal, and would appreciate the extra attention. It was perceptive of Wilson to understand that, tone deaf as she could be on other subjects.

Such as Brandon and mentoring, just for instance.

**00000**

"Mr. Jones, I want to thank you for intervening. If you hadn't stepped in when you did-,"

FP was surprised - and trying to figure out how he should be reacting to Clark's words when Jughead tackled him in a hug.

"Clark would have been a goner without you, Dad. I'm sorry I tried to handle things on my own."

Apparently they'd been thinking over FP's role in everything and decided that he was the hero.

He could live with that.

"Hey, Jug, be careful of the arm. It's a little painful after the workout I gave it earlier," FP returned the hug somewhat more gently. "And you are welcome. Not welcome to pull another stunt like that-," FP tapped Jughead meaningfully on the back for emphasis, "-but you are always welcome to my help if something unavoidable comes up. Both of you."

"Really. I can't thank you enough." Clark was painfully sincere. FP gave him a smile and what he hoped was a reassuring nod.

"It was great how you destroyed that guy." Jughead grinned up at his father. "You've learned a lot in training."

"If you ever have someone go after one of your family members with a knife, you'll understand exactly how easy it is to make sure they don't get back up again." FP's brow furrowed, even at the memory.

"Oh, I know. The guy who pulled a switchblade on Clark didn't get back up until he was cuffed." Jughead nodded in solidarity, even though FP and Brand exchanged glances that clearly communicated that there had been a difference in the scale of the two Jones men's responses.

"You're planning to watch the movie with us, right, Dad? I'm going to make brownies and we need you to make the good hot chocolate. Trigger probably needs a snack, too, to make up for all the time home alone."

The dog looked up and whined at the sound of his name, and Clark reached over to join Jughead in petting him energetically.

"That can probably be arranged. What are we watching?" FP looked over at Brandon. "I assume you had veto power?"

"Oh, no. I picked it out, FP." Brandon gave him a mysterious smile. "Just you wait and see."

"Gre-eat." FP turned to go make the hot chocolate, though, with Trigger following right on his heels.

It took him a few moments to realize that Trigger was not the only one following him.

"They're right, you know. You're the MVP this time around." Brandon was padding along silently behind FP toward the kitchen. "We'd have had one or more dead bodies if you hadn't been on top of things."

"I caught Jughead and Clark cooking up a scheme. The rest was just a horrifying coincidence." FP was still trying not to think too hard about how close they'd come to losing Clark - and also Jughead. "And I wanted to talk to you about Jughead, actually." FP figured he'd seize the opportunity. "He's acting a little more like a teenager lately. I think it's good, but I wanted to chat with you. Have you noticed things shifting over the last couple of weeks?"

Brandon made a face. "I think he's going through something. I need to find time to sit down and really talk to him."

"Oh?" FP had not expected there to be something specific on Brandon's mind. He thought of SAC Wilson and suddenly wondered if he needed to end this conversation before anything of substance came up. "Look, you should talk to him, then. I don't want to hear anything that might turn out to be a problem later. But is it… serious?"

"I don't know. It's just a few weird things that could be nothing - or might turn out to be something. I'll figure it out, and you can do me a favor and steer clear." Brandon looked apologetic about the request. "If it takes the whole wolf pack to deal with, I'll try and figure a way to cut you in without reading you in. Does that work for you?"

"Possibly." That should satisfy his duty to Wilson, too. FP thought it over and then nodded firmly. "Yes."

"So… I want to do a few things this weekend, and I wanted to talk them through with you beforehand." Brandon leaned against the kitchen island while FP began pulling out ingredients to make hot chocolate. "First, before Jones comes out here to bake, what do you think about my getting him a new backpack?"

That was unexpected. FP cocked his head curiously, turned to face Brandon, and waited for him to say more.

"It's past time. I know he was attached to it when he lost…" Brandon trailed off uncomfortably and looked away for a moment. "Well, me. And his life in Toronto, such as it was. But I'm here now. I picked this out, but I don't actually know what you two discussed when you made the decision to send him to school with that ratty backpack. I don't want to screw things up."

Brandon showed FP an image on his phone of a high-end professional bag that converted from a backpack to briefcase to shoulder bag.

"It's nice." FP was thoughtful. "You can get it for him. I've wanted to replace his backpack for a while, but it would probably be better coming from you. Just don't throw out his old one until you have a conversation with him; I'm not sure his attachment to it is entirely rational."

"No kidding." Brand rubbed the back of his neck.

"Thanks for running it by me first. And do me a favor: don't buy him anything else before the next major holiday. He just got those boots and I don't like how insistent he was about them. He doesn't need to start acting spoiled along with acting his age in other ways," FP said. He turned back to the stove. "What else is on your mind?"

"I promised to make Sarah dinner tomorrow."

"Okay. As long as you're cooking, that's fine. Jughead can invite Betty too; Tim's coming with Roger, so it can be a party." FP began pouring milk into the pot. "It might be nice to touch base with everyone. Don't jerk Sarah around in front of me, though, or we'll have issues."

"I'm not jerking her around." Brandon scowled. "And, uh, there's one more thing."

FP waited expectantly.

"I think Jones could use some practice with restraints, and-,"

"No."

"You didn't even let me finish-,"

"_No_. You're not tying him up again, Brandon. I know you used that as a threat or a punishment more than once, and we're nowhere near that being a neutral activity for Jughead."

"Agreed. That's why I want him to tie you up."

"_What_?" FP had been opening the cocoa, but he slapped it onto the counter and turned to face Brandon. "I'll skip to the ending and tell you _that's _never going to happen, but I'm actually curious. What was your reasoning this time?"

"It's a skill," Brandon said defensively. "And I'll teach you how to escape. Honestly, this conversation is a courtesy. We were just going to jump you and-,"

"Uh, correction: Brand was going to jump you." Jughead walked into the kitchen. "I had nothing to do with this plan. He only offered to cut me in when I told him that you would kill him in cold blood."

"Well, you were right." FP nodded toward Jughead. "Where's Clark?"

"I'm right here." Clark followed Jughead into the kitchen. "Why?"

"You shouldn't be alone right now." FP gave him a concerned look that Clark didn't quite meet. "I'm going to ask Keller about getting you some body armor tomorrow. Even if this isn't all connected-," FP gave Brandon a look, since he was very aware that Clark's threat had come from Donn, "-you should have the same protection that I do."

"I already do have the same protection. I'm here with you all." Clark reached down to pet Trigger. "And we got the guys, anyway, so maybe I should start to think about going back to my apart-,"

"Stay. Stay for another week at least, Clark." Brand patted him on the shoulder, frowning when Clark didn't look up from where he was focused on Trigger. "I'm still looking at closing on that house, and if you're not interested in rooming with me after another week, we'll discuss. No decisions tonight, though. Okay?"

"Okay." Clark still didn't look up.

"Hey, you know what - brownies can wait. I've got some photos I want to show you." Jughead moved to lead Clark protectively out of the kitchen, giving FP and Brand a warning look as he did so. "Movie in half an hour, okay?"

"Yeah. Sure, kid." Brand watched as Jones and Clark headed toward Jughead's room.

After a few moments of heavy silence, FP returned to brewing the hot chocolate. "He's going to have a hard time. I don't know why he hasn't been on the phone with family, but he hasn't."

That had not occurred to Brand.

"He seems like he has a family. I don't know that he mentions them much, but-,"

"It could be that they had a falling out, or even that he doesn't want to worry them." FP shrugged. "Who knows. But he doesn't seem to have them to lean on at the moment. Jughead might do better at helping him right now than we can if he doesn't have other support. You're his boss, and he's still wary of me after all the Serpent stuff."

"Maybe." Brand stared after the two. "He's certainly got some crazy idea that he should be able to come through a near death experience - attempted murder, no less - without blinking. I'm not sure if he gets that from Jones being therapied to the hilt or from somewhere else entirely, but I do get the sense that to Clark it's not obvious that Jones, not to mention everyone he knows, paid a huge price to get him to where he was when they first met at the RA."

"Does Clark actually think that one day Jug was in Toronto being tortured, the next day he was in Riverdale with me, and somehow he just magically went back to being… as normal as he is now?" FP shook his head with a dark laugh. "Wow. Now there's an impossible standard to hold himself to. It would have been nice if it had been that simple for Jughead."

"Eh, Clark recognizes that Jones is exceptional, and he probably even recognizes that it wasn't quite that simple. But he's not dumb; he knows that he's got some exceptional qualities too, and a full decade of life experience on the kid." Brand shrugged. "He's bound to be hard on himself."

"That's… twisted. And I don't suppose telling him that Jughead was a mess for months would enhance anyone's life." FP ran a hand through his hair.

"As far as I know, Jones has never talked to him about it. I figure it's his business to share or not to share. I'm not sure I like the idea of the kid taking Clark's trauma on like it's his responsibility, either. But yeah, my guess is that Clark's not liable to curl up with you or the dog and fall asleep like Jones does when he's too upset to function."

"Nope."

"Well, even if we don't give him the inside scoop on Jones' storied and colorful recovery process, we're not letting Clark fall apart. Or go home to an _apartment building_," Brand's tone made it sound as if it were a dirty phrase, "at least until we've confirmed that we did get the guys - the only guys - coming after him."

"It's Donn. We know that. And it's not Donn who came after me." FP glowered in consternation. "This is insane. The household is like a lightning rod for trouble."

"FP, I'm really not sure about any of this anymore." Brand sighed, thinking back to Jones' cryptic statements. "Let me look into it, and in the meantime we'll keep your head down and get Clark some body armor. That's a fine idea."

"If we don't get it soon, he's taking mine." FP's tone brooked no disagreement.

"It won't come to that. And he hasn't been shot at, so let's keep our heads; I'll probably be able to get him body armor tomorrow."

"Fine." FP continued stirring the hot chocolate. "I just… I'm surrounded by protection. I hated seeing him so vulnerable at the park."

"Same here. And that's why we're not leaving him to fend for himself." Brand spoke firmly. This conversation was veering from some relation to survivor's guilt to - most likely - vestiges of FP's ongoing worry for Jones' safety, and it was time to shut it down. "We're going to have snacks and watch a movie and keep him safe."

"And I'm teaching Jughead to ride my bike." FP glanced over his shoulder at Brand to see his reaction, and his tone was suddenly neutral. "Starting tomorrow, those boots are going to do some double duty."

"No way, old man." Brand's tone was still firm, but now he was grinning. "He needs the dress ones to stay nice for work. After you tell him that's on the docket - and he's done combusting from excitement -, I'll take him out and get him a tougher pair. I'll make 'em an early Christmas present if you're too worried about spoiling the runt. Can I get him a jacket too?"

"I've already got one for him." FP turned all the way around this time, and now the boast in his tone was unrestrained. "The one I learned in when I was a little younger than he is now."

"Well. You've clearly got your sights on remaining MVP for at least two days running." Brand smirked. "I might have to get ahold of that camera of his."

FP nodded with a proud smile. "I think you'd better."

**00000**

They ended up in the living room watching the movie, Brand shooing FP into a recliner and taking up the left side of the couch. Jughead took one look at the arrangement and claimed the right side of the couch, hauling Trigger up onto his lap and motioning for Clark to sit between himself and Brand.

Clark settled in, welcoming Trig to sprawl out over his lap as well.

FP started the movie and made sure everyone could reach the snacks - except for Trigger - and brought over refills and napkins periodically.

And, when they were halfway through a second movie, FP turned the volume down. "You think we should put those two to bed?"

Jughead was asleep on Clark's shoulder, and Clark had slumped against Brand when he'd likewise dozed off. Trigger had long since abandoned the couch for his dog bed in Jughead's room.

"Nah. I'll finish this one out and just sleep here so we don't have to wake them - and so they don't wake up alone if Jones has a nightmare or something. Clark doesn't need that kind of excitement after today. If you turn the lights off before you turn in, I think we'll be as set as we can be."

"I could stay here for the night," FP motioned to the recliner, "but I'm not sure what good that would do."

"Go to bed. I've got these two." Brand leaned back into the couch cushions with a contented sigh. "This is a great couch; it'll be like old times. Maybe throw a couple of blankets over them, though, since it's getting chilly. Is that weighted one handy? I'm not sure it does anything for Jones' anxiety, but it might help Clark."

Fred Andrews had gotten it for Jughead after quite a bit of research, and even though Jughead had insisted that he didn't think it worked, he had been using it on his bed every night for the past few weeks like a talisman.

"I'll get it." FP retrieved the blanket from Jughead's room and turned off the lights so that only the movie was illuminating the living room. He hesitated as he tucked the interns in and turned to face Brand. "Wilson said something today. That you're a generous mentor. I'm not sure she really knows what she's talking about... but she's not entirely off base."

"Don't stress yourself trying to square things in your mind, old man. We can leave it at she doesn't know what she's talking about." Brand smirked, but it was rueful. "I'm just making it up as I go."

"Alrighty. Good night, Brandon."

"Good night, FP."

**00000**

Brand thought Sunday was just about perfect. He woke up to find Clark curled against his ribcage, snoring lightly, and Jones taking a photo of them with his camera.

"You want breakfast after you've secured your blackmail material, kid?" Brand smiled and stretched before he shook Clark's shoulder lightly. "Clark, buddy, let's rise and shine."

Both Jones and Brand startled when Clark jerked awake and brought his hands up to grab at Brand.

"You're in the living room. We're about to make breakfast." Brand had instinctively locked his arms around Clark before fully processing that the movement might escalate his panic, and he was relieved when his words caused Clark to freeze, look around himself, and then relax slightly.

"Oh great." Clark blinked at Jughead, taking in the camera. "Some wingman you are."

"You were ado-orable," Jughead drawled teasingly. "Chocolate chip pancakes?"

"Yeah, sure. I was worried you wouldn't quite have full-blown diabetes after last night, so more chocolate would really set my mind at ease. Where's your dad?" Brand wasn't sure what time it was, but the sun was fully up.

"Still asleep. We were up pretty late." Jones shrugged.

"You poked your head in there?"

"He's snoring." This time Jones gave Brand a more serious look. "He's okay."

"Just making sure he didn't seize his opportunity to become a free man and leave me the mammoth task of raising you." Brand deflected the obvious: they were all on edge after the events of the past couple of weeks. "Clark, you take the first shower. I'll get breakfast ready to go. Jones, take the monster for a run before he starts running laps around the house."

Trigger had ways of expressing when he had not had enough exercise.

Forty minutes later, Clark and Jones were both showered. Trigger was a lot calmer, FP was brewing coffee, and the pancakes were being poured.

And Jones was perilously close to jumping up and down.

"Are you serious? Today? I can take your bike out?"

Clark had disappeared into the shower immediately after getting up and he'd been almost painfully quiet since then, but he smiled along with Jones' enthusiasm.

"Your godfather's taking you out to get some more practical boots first, but then yeah. Sweet Pea's borrowing my car for the day and he's agreed to let me use his bike once we've got you up and running on mine." FP grinned when Jones became even more excited. "You ever been on a motorcycle, Clark?"

"Yes, sir." Clark nodded enthusiastically. "I might need a refresher on riding one in the states, though. There weren't a lot of rules where I learned."

"My kind of man," FP said approvingly, and Clark's smile widened.

Brand didn't even mind when the kid insisted that he had to do the dishes - "and don't forget the bathrooms!" - after breakfast, though Jones did help out a little when he realized that would get them to the store sooner.

And then all of that perfection started to have a few cracks in it.

"So, while we have a few minutes to ourselves... what exactly convinced you that Clark and your father are being threatened by the same source?" Brand asked as he drove Jones toward the store FP had recommended for gear. "Last I heard, we knew who was threatening Clark."

"Oh. Well... Clark heard the guys mention Donn. And they said to stay away from Dad because I was there." The kid shrugged, and then was silent for a few long moments. His next words came out in a rush: "And, uh, Donn may have said that Clark and my dad know too much. Back when we were at the field office. The day that Southside High was bombed."

Brand pulled the car over with a jerk of the wheel and a brief sound of protest from the brakes. "Hang on. _What_ did you just say?"

Jones cringed against the passenger door, looking a whole lot like he was waiting to be hit.

"Jones, I'm going to try to be calm about this, but we are going to sit right here in this car until you tell me everything that Donn said to you. Starting with why you didn't tell me everything, I don't know, _three weeks ago _when it happened. Did he threaten you?"

Brand figured they'd start there, though he had a sinking feeling that he knew who had been threatened. It hadn't been FP or Clark - the subjects of the issue at hand - and odds were it hadn't been the kid either.

"He said that... it would let you have more freedom if I played ball." Jones was almost mumbling, and he was gripping the door handle like he might attempt a run for it. "That you could make more decisions about your life. Your career."

Brand took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It did precisely nothing to help his blood pressure, but it still seemed like the right move. "Okay. All right. That explains some things. What else?"

"I told him that Clark and Dad don't know anything."

"That is correct. It also seemed to carry weight with Donn for about two weeks. So, what changed?"

"I don't know. I don't know." Jones was suddenly gripping his head as if he was in pain.

"Look, Rose said that Donn's under control." It was time to just talk, Brand figured. This was beyond messed up already, and he-who-must-not-be-named was only one part of their problem at the moment. "Nothing seems like it's changed on his end, even though Donn is at least tangentially connected to the internal investigation at work-," Brand began working through the reasoning aloud.

"You... shouldn't assume that you're getting the whole story from Rose." Now Jones looked like he was about to curl up in the fetal position. He was still gripping his head and avoiding eye contact.

"Well. That's good advice. Any particular reason why you're giving it to me?" Brand heard his own tone go dangerous and winced. There was no chance that the kid missed that.

He needed to calm down or this was going to go sideways real fast. And neither of them could afford for that to happen.

"No." Jones' voice was barely audible.

"So…" Brand spoke slowly and schooled his voice carefully, "maybe Donn's been cut loose and he's out for blood to try and get back in the game?"

Brand continued to process his thoughts aloud, but now with an eye for the kid's reactions. It seemed likely that Jones had spilled everything he knew... but Brand had also thought that when they'd previously debriefed, after Southside High.

"I have no idea." Jones' voice was stronger now. "I just… don't trust anyone. They're playing all the sides, Brand."

"Yeah. I know that. I didn't think _you _knew that." Brand frowned. This was remarkably more intuitive than the kid had ever been before about the criminal side of things. "Do you know something, Jones? Do you somehow have information? Or are you just guessing?"

"I'm guessing." His tone was grudging now, but it sounded like the truth. It sounded as though Jones was irritated not to know more. Okay. Brand could work with that.

"But you want me to treat this like it was all Donn's doing - attacking both Clark and your father - and you think that there's no change to our status with Rose?" Brand could only see that scenario making sense with what they were currently discussing. "You and I are still under protection, in spite of the fact that a specific violation to our agreement is being made?"

"I thought I took care of it. I thought I explained to Donn-,"

"There's no blame when it comes to Donn. If he's struck out on his own or been kicked to the curb, then nothing you said was going to change what he chose to do next." Brand figured that was likely true. "For some reason he thinks this is going to win him points, maybe get him back into good graces even, but he's also taking the time to outsource it so it isn't him specifically - personally - coming after FP or Clark." Brand took another deep, calming breath.

"He might be right; that might be a winning strategy. I don't know. And he knows for sure that coming after you or me will land him six feet under in a hurry. It makes some sense, and we knew things were messy with the FBI investigating Russell. Donn might have been cut loose over that, panicked, and here we are."

Jones nodded miserably.

"Well, we need to get you some boots and we need to get back to those two before someone notices that they're without their human shields. We'll stick close to them, and we'll sort this out as soon as possible with a few phone calls." Brand frowned.

"Should we just go home?" Jones' voice shook.

"We're getting you boots. I'm going to text FP to lock things down until we get back, though, and you're going to have to ride double with your father on his bike today. I'm sorry if that's disappointing, but that's where we're at, kid. If Sweet Pea can handle it, I'll take you for a spin so you've got company on a solo ride - but don't expect anything fancy. We should stick close to the house."

"It's fine."

"This is what you were planning to do last night." It all suddenly came together for Brand. "You were just trying to get to Clark so that nobody else would dare go near him."

"Yeah." Jones was back to curling himself into a ball.

"No - that's okay, kid. It was a smart move. That's actually going to be our plan for the time being. As long as we're safely off-limits, we'll just keep those two with us at all times. Your dad was shot while he was with you, but it sounds like that got cleared up in a hurry if Clark's right about what he thinks he overheard. So we'll buy some time that way, and I'll get on the horn and get this sorted out. This is a clear violation of the agreement, and you better believe that some law is going to be laid down."

Jones was breathing easier. Brand texted FP and got a quick response - and was immensely grateful that FP had begun working with him much more easily and did not ask any questions about why Brand was telling him to be on high alert.

And things were finally making more sense. It wasn't great, but it was worlds better than the confusion that had been swirling around the whole situation up until now.

Brand just wished he didn't have a nagging feeling that there was something else he needed to put his finger on. Something that might even be the key to all of this.

He was used to the feeling, though. Paranoia could be nasty like that.

**00000**

**Brand's getting so much POV! I should let a few others get words in edgewise, but he was SO light on POV in previous stories that I've been enjoying getting to know him again now that he's trying to be an upstanding(ish) member of the community. :) I hope you enjoyed as well, and that Passover or Easter or "weekend after which Cadbury cream eggs go on sale" (whatever your holiday might be) is/was/shall be lovely for you. A mouthful, but I mean it sincerely. :) As always, any notes will be enjoyed richly and inspire me muchly as I work through chapter twelve!**

**-Button**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello! This chapter was fun to write, and I'm all chipper. :-D (yeah, a good mood in no way makes sense in the global context, but the little things are pretty great these days... so feel free to come along with me to a good mood today! :-D )**

**Living Lucid Dream, thanks so much for the review! You held the fort this week, and it was very encouraging (nothing like a little radio silence to make me question EVERYthing, bahaha). FP is finding himself in a very odd position, yes, and it's disturbing... we may well hear more about the internal investigation as things close in. And yeah, Clark has been secondary (with enough space and time they'd all have their origin novels!), and to be fair Brand's family history is a total blank so far (mwahaha), but this was definitely a conspicuous moment where he'd be locked in a room on his phone if things were entirely normal for the poor lad. And yeah, Clark's trying to be tough, but I am with you (and Brand) - he'd make _very_ easy pickings on his own. Also, I totally agree that it's not going to be pretty as the extent of the Rose double dealings comes to light. Poor Jug was difficult to write in that scene (he's been wrestling with this alone for a while now, and trying to put on a brave face, but...), and I'm afraid the buck may only have been passed... and obviously not entirely. The brewing is happening, and I'm having fun getting there! :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Jughead was excited about learning to ride a motorcycle, and it felt like an immense weight had been lifted from him now that Brand had promised to call Rose. Or maybe it was just that Brand knew about Donn now, so Jughead could trust him to handle the situation.

There hadn't been a new message on the burner phone, but Jughead was increasingly tense about what might be coming - and he knew that Rose was a lot more likely to listen to Brand than to him.

However, despite his enthusiasm for the new adventure and his dad's obvious excitement about sharing it with him, it was clear that Jughead wasn't going to be welcomed into his father's club that simply.

Sweet Pea had not seemed begrudging in the slightest when he arrived, but it was soon obvious that he was pointedly focusing his attention on FP, and behaving as if Jughead did not exist.

"You're taking the Carter girl quite a ways, huh?" FP asked Sweet Pea gruffly. His affection for the younger Serpent was obvious, but somewhere along the way Jughead had gotten used to him being less guarded and it was almost shocking to recall that this had been his mode with Jughead not so very long ago. They really had made some major strides together. "You take it easy on the highways and if that tire gets soft you see to it right away."

"I will. Thank you. And if you're planning another game night, I can help you set it up."

"I am. I'll let you know, probably within the next couple of weeks." FP eyed him suspiciously. "No pool table for now, though."

"We'll see." Sweet Pea smiled mischievously. "I'm still keeping an eye out for you."

"I've no doubt." FP smirked and when Jughead gave him a questioning look he dropped an arm around his son's shoulders as if in a promise that he would fill him in later. Sweet Pea's smile flickered.

"Are you going to take Alice to dinner afterward?" Jughead asked, figuring he could at least help with that part, even if his very existence bugged Sweet Pea - or maybe just the fact that his dad actually liked him. "She likes burgers and French pastries, and there's nothing like visiting someone in jail - or prison, in this case - to work up an appetite."

FP's arm tensed around Jughead. The teen was careful not to react, but he knew his dad was probably not appreciating being used for street cred in this moment. Oh well; it was true enough.

Sweet Pea looked over at Jughead, almost as if he was surprised to find him still standing there. "Yeah? What do you know about it?"

"Alice and I are friends." Jughead met Sweet Pea's skeptical look with a challenge of his own, intentionally answering the question that he was fairly certain Sweet Pea had not been asking.

Jughead wasn't about to start discussing FP's time in jail with someone he was not entirely sure he could trust. Especially not while his dad was gripping his shoulders like he was considering hauling him back into the house. "She knows good burgers, too, so you might want to do your homework."

"Okay." Sweet Pea put his hands in his back pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Any other tips?"

"Maybe go somewhere you can walk for a while. Don't just sit in the car for hours." Jughead shrugged. "Alice does better when she can burn off some energy."

That seemed to give Sweet Pea food for thought.

"Other than that, you're on your own," Jughead added quickly, hoping he had not already overstepped. Alice would kill him if she found out that he'd been coaching one of her suitors.

"Thanks, Jughead." Sweet Pea gave him an assessing look. "You coming to the next game night?"

"We'll see." Jughead figured that was what FP would have said had he been given the chance to answer. "It depends."

Sweet Pea nodded thoughtfully and then accepted the car keys from FP. "Well, maybe I'll see you then. Thanks again, FP."

A few minutes later Jughead was alone with his dad in the driveway.

"You were good with him," FP observed. "You're a complicated topic - kind of a sore spot - with the Serpents, but with Sweet Pea you have an in through Alice. And you were generous; that was smart, because he won't forget that."

Jughead looked up at FP, surprised by his detailed analysis. "You really want me to get along with him, huh?"

"Nope." FP held up Sweet Pea's motorcycle helmet in one hand and gave Jughead a smile with a glint of humor. "I want _him _to get along with my boy, so that he and I don't have issues. So far so good."

Jughead smiled back at him.

"Let's do this." FP's smile spread into a grin, and Jughead's smile shifted to match his father's.

**00000**

"Have you heard from SAC Wilson today?" Agent Quinn had returned from taking Betty for a spin on Sweet Pea's bike into the neighborhood while FP went further afield on his own bike - riding behind Jughead, coaching him and laughing as they yelled back and forth.

Brand had taken a page out of the kid's book, compartmentalizing the situation as well as he could and trying to focus on the afternoon with family and friends. It helped that FP hadn't even blinked over the cryptic text from Brand and had not asked any follow-up questions when they'd gotten back with new boots, which seemed like another milestone in their relationship.

Or a sign that their life was more insane than it had any right to be.

Brand had also texted Rose, but did not expect that to mean anything until he could follow up with a real call and gauge Rose's reactions. It was chilling to know that so much had happened between Jones and Donn right under his nose, and Brand was shaken by the fact that there had been a successful end run around him to get to the kid.

He would not allow that to happen a second time. He had thought that he'd set things up so that it could never happen in the first place. Brand felt his shoulders tighten even as he tried to put all of that out of his mind for the moment.

Brand looked around at the folks gathered in the yard. Betty had joined Clark on the porch swing that FP had assembled and installed just that week; they were chatting while she waited for her boyfriend, and she was holding Trigger's leash while the dog watched anxiously for any sign of his master. Tim and Roger would arrive in about an hour, and they planned to fire up the grill at that point. Sarah was still astride Sweet Pea's bike, obviously considering whether she'd like to take it out again.

"You look good on that bike." Brand took a photo of Agent Quinn with Jughead's camera.

"I know." Sarah tossed her hair teasingly and laughed when Brand made an appreciative face. "But seriously, if you haven't heard from Wilson, you and I should talk. She's got a few things in place for you and Jughead for tomorrow, and you're not going to like them. And I don't think anyone needs to be subjected to your knee-jerk responses if they're sprung on you at work."

"Really?" Brand had a hard time picturing Sarah having more information than he did about this. "Like what?"

"Well, she had a particular assignment for Betty, to go with that footage - and her journalism background."

Brand's eyebrows lifted. "She wants the warrior queen to work up some sort of story? To cover… what? We didn't do much of anything."

"Apparently it's a story, and we need to get ahead of it. Wilson watched the footage, and _then _she watched that insane interview you and Jughead gave last spring-,"

"Hey. That was a work of art, right up until Jones-,"

"It was obviously propaganda, and one of the problems at this point is that he looks like he aged two or three years in a matter of months. You _really _dressed him young for that interview." Sarah shook her head. "He looks a lot closer to seventeen in the footage from last night, and of course the subject matter contradicts a lot of what you claimed about him in the spring."

"Don't release the footage then."

"Again, that's not the whole of the issue. Apparently we're not the only people who know there's a story here. Wilson thinks it would be better to do a package release and get it out fast. Control the message." Quinn shrugged apologetically when Brand groaned. "Footage, human interest story, and she even thought Betty had a good idea about branching out and profiling Andrews and his 'concept album' since it's on message and they were there last night as well. Not to mention they garnered a very nice response in the park and they're all photogenic."

"Uh, let's go with no. Jones is unpredictable, in case you didn't catch that from the live interview. Message control is not one of his strengths." Brand shook his head firmly. "I won't put him through that again. Or myself, for that matter."

"That's where Wilson's master plan comes in. She and I are personally working with Betty, and she's got a media manager coming into the RA tomorrow for you and Jughead. You won't be allowed to be unpredictable."

"_No_."

"Read your contract, Brand. You have options, but refusing is not one of them." Quinn shrugged one shoulder. "I think there will be perks, so you're not in a bad position, but you aren't going to be allowed to stonewall Wilson on this."

"I can make things painful enough that-,"

"Please don't." Sarah sighed heavily. "Honestly, Brandon, can't you just work with the agency on this? We've got enough going on with the RA, the Southside case, and now the internal investigation - which, by the way, you're being _spared _more than 'locked out of.'"

Brand had complained more than once about being held at arm's length from anything related to Russell, thanks to his ties to Jones.

"If you start kicking at the goads and that allows major news outlets to publish a harmful story about you and Jughead, we won't even be able to begin digging out. Williams would be thrilled, of course, but besides that-,"

"Oh, now, that's real mature." Brand rolled his eyes. "You can't use Williams to get me on board."

"I can try." Sarah smirked as she made her decision about a second ride and maneuvered the bike to one side of the driveway and dismounted. "Also, do you really think Jughead will appreciate it if you make a fuss?"

"I know he would." Brand folded his arms below the camera hanging from his neck. "Why? Do you think otherwise?"

"Yes, Brandon." Agent Quinn gave him a look that made it clear she thought this should be obvious. "I think he wants to help. I also think that he'll do better if he's able to contribute meaningfully to getting everything back on an even keel. I think that most of all he'd appreciate being given the option of deciding for himself."

Darn it. She might be right. "I'll think about it. I don't like the pressure falling on him, though, and I'd have thought you'd be on my side about that."

"Just listen tomorrow before you open your mouth. That's all I ask."

Brand ran a hand through his hair, but he smiled. "I might be able to manage that much."

"That's a relief to hear." Sarah smiled back.

The approach of FP's motorcycle was suddenly audible.

"You know... Jughead's never had a whole lot to say about his father."

"During debriefing, you mean?" Brand cocked his head curiously.

"FP's not what I expected." Quinn sidestepped the question, which Brand took as confirmation.

"Eh, he's not who he was." Brand shrugged, but his gaze was sharp - and he assumed his protective instincts were more active than usual since he didn't typically have this response to Sarah. "Don't make the mistake of discounting Jones on the subject. He wasn't rebelling against a responsible father. They've both worked hard for what you're seeing now."

"Fair enough." Sarah's tone was mild. "You seem to carve out a lot of space for just the two of them. You don't worry about FP going back to the way he was?"

"I keep an eye on things." Brand wanted to cringe at his own words; some job he'd been doing of that lately. "I encourage FP to stay on the straight and narrow. He on the other hand bullies me terribly, night and day."

Sarah smiled in response to Brand's exaggerated phrasing.

"To be fair, I am the guy who kidnapped his kid - and I had a few things to learn about playing well with others when I first moved in with them. It's worked out, though, and I like to think that we're both better people for it."

"I could see that. You... bring a lot to the table." Sarah's tone had turned shy and she didn't look at Brand as she spoke.

And suddenly Brand was overcome by frustration.

"You know, I used to think so. But there comes a point where I have to face facts. Even my greatest strengths aren't contributing much of anything these days." Brand almost stopped when he caught a flash of Sarah's worried expression, but the frustration kept welling up in him and he kept talking:

"I mean, I love to cook. I work at it. And yet the kid I care most about in the world keeps dropping weight like he's in a gulag. I pride myself on situational awareness, and I can barely keep up with the most relevant... _circumstances _of the people I live with. Leaving aside him nearly being killed yesterday - on my watch -, I literally don't know if Clark has a family, if they're local, or what. It's truly shocking how little I bring to the table, Quinn. You should know that now, because you'll find out soon enough."

"Well, I think I can help you out with some of that," Sarah spoke gently, a concerned expression creasing her features. "You are not a paid cook and literally nobody thinks you're here because of your talent for 'situational awareness.' Yesterday was a disaster that was _averted _thanks to it being your watch. You defied Wilson's orders and that's why everyone's safe and sound today."

Quinn looked directly at Brand this time, and her tone was matter of fact. "And I might be the only person at the RA who knows that Clark's only sibling - a brother - died as a teenager, before Clark was born. His parents aren't local. They're also older, more like grandparents to him, so it's entirely possible that they had Clark because they lost his brother. He doesn't talk about them much because he's protective, but I get the sense that they're his reason for trying to save the world."

Sarah made a pained face before continuing. "I also get the sense that he had to grow up in a hurry as a teenager, when they had some health issues and it basically became his turn to play caregiver. That's something you haven't done with Jughead, and I think it might even be part of why Clark gravitates toward you."

"What, my low expectations? Or my glossy sheen of youth and vitality?"

Sarah laughed at Brand's morose tone.

"Oh, give it a rest. You really are too hard on yourself, Brandon. Did Jughead say something to set you off? He's so young, and after everything that's happened this week you shouldn't take it personally."

"He… _didn't _tell me something. I try to make it safe for him to talk to me, and I screwed that up somehow." Brand figured that was honest enough without being informative.

Quinn shrugged. "That actually sounds completely normal for a teenager. And don't forget, he's on the brink of becoming an adult."

"Apparently." Brand rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, anyway, I don't think it's either of those for Clark - low expectations or your youthful glow. I think it's more that you don't push him to be a fully-formed professional in every area of his life, and you don't treat him like the learning process is a grave failure on his part. And... you know more than I do about this, but I think the kids we care most about in the world are always the ones to give us fits. Often it's precisely in the areas where we think things should go most smoothly."

Brand's eyebrows lowered further and he scoffed. "I don't know much about any of this, Sarah. You're the professional."

"I've got nieces and nephews. I see them at parties and family events, and occasionally when I babysit. I also get to be there when kids are at their most destroyed, when baked goods and basic decency are downright miraculous to them." Quinn looked away again. "None of that is reality. Not like you have. You do the real thing here, day in and day out."

As if _that _didn't feel like sandpaper all over, rubbing raw all of the ways in which Brand was acutely aware of being an interloper and a criminal whose primary contribution to the household was (ineptly) trying to protect Jones and mitigate the damage he'd caused.

And failing.

Brand couldn't even begin to formulate a response, and he was relieved when Jones and FP chose that moment to quit circling the block and pull into the driveway.

Quinn and Brand both turned and Brand raised the camera when the bike pulled to a stop, Jughead grinning and FP giving him a proud slap on the shoulder as he dismounted.

"He's a natural," FP declared as he removed his helmet. "We'll have to look at bikes next spring."

Jughead pulled his helmet off and nodded. "I'll start saving for one. That was awesome."

Brand took a photo of the two together, and then another when FP pulled Jughead into a hug and motioned toward the camera. Their matched-set grins were probably going to have to make an appearance on a wall in the house before too long.

It occurred to Brand to hope that Jones was actually feeling the elation apparent in the photo. Based on their conversation earlier, the kid had become quite the actor - and it was worrying to consider that Jones might be hiding the fact that he was living through more nightmares than just the ones that occasionally still woke the household.

"You promised you'd take a ride with me, Brand." Jones held out a hand for his father's helmet and then passed it to Brand. "Give Betty the camera, and come make sure I don't kill myself."

"You have an awful lot of faith in me." Brand smiled, but his eyes searched Jones' for any clue that the teen was likewise feeling as though life as they knew it was actively unraveling due to the developing situation.

"Yep." Jones slapped his godfather's shoulder and met Brand's searching look with a knowing smile. "I know you'll always bail me out if I need you."

Agent Quinn looked distractingly like she was going to swoon in response to Jones' words, and she gave Brand a meaningful look that he tried very hard to ignore.

"Just don't get into trouble intentionally and force me to step in," Brand echoed the kid's teasing admonishment from a few weeks prior.

FP snorted. "Go ride, you two. I'll peel you both off of the pavement if you get into real trouble."

"Aw, thanks. It's always reassuring to have backup, old man." He was joking, and so Brand was surprised when he felt that reassurance keenly as FP slipped his own jacket over Brand's shoulders.

But then, it was true. FP was still his secret weapon, should the worst come to pass with Rose. Brand gave the older man's shoulder a pat of thanks and then he took Sweet Pea's bike from Sarah.

Hopefully he would not need that secret weapon anytime soon.

"Take Clark out next." FP jerked his head to indicate Clark. "He can ride my bike, and Jug's gear should work for him."

"Yeah, okay." Brand watched as Clark's eyes tracked them bringing the bikes around. "We'll see what he's got in him."

**00000**

"I'm helping Jones teach Trig some agility basics." Clark perked up as he spoke to Tim, who had sat down next to him in a chair in the Joneses' back yard to get to know the member of the household who had not been present during his previous visit. "Did Roger ever do any of that?"

"Oh, yeah. His training was intense. I had to be trained too, just to try and keep up with him. Nowadays we both try to keep our skills at least somewhat fresh." Tim leaned back in his lawn chair, exuding ease in the conversation and turning his body so that he was fully oriented toward Clark. "How's the body armor feeling? It can take some getting used to, but trust me when I say it's miles better than the stuff we used to have."

"I feel a little silly." Clark shrugged and ducked his head. "Nobody shot at me. FP should have protection, obviously he should, but we caught the guys who were coming after me. I'm fine now. It's a lot of fuss over nothing at this point."

"So, what, are you crazy or just a really selfless guy?" Tim smiled warmly at Clark, and his tone was gentle. "I know death threats, young man, and it's not nothing. It's gotta feel like there's a smoking crater in your head right now if you're even remotely human. And who's to say that what happened last night is the extent of the threat? I don't believe in coincidences - such as you and FP just happening to have attacks on your lives at the same time, while living under the same roof. I don't _get _to believe in coincidences, because that's an assumption that might get someone killed. So you just wear the armor, and maybe don't say that you're fine for a good long while."

Clark eyed Tim with a tentative expression. "So, I don't get to be fine? Not even if that's what I want?"

"It's not a knock against your abilities. You can be an excellent worker, friend, family member, and dog trainer and not be fine - all at the same time." Tim patted Clark's shoulder. "You more than most, maybe, because you've clearly had such a full deck for so long that you haven't even learned that lesson. It's impressive."

Clark smiled at that. "I've been spoiled, you mean?"

"Enough so that I'm jealous. I'd love that kind of spoiling in my life. I'm real sorry for this hiccup in your plan, but I get the sense that your deck isn't going to lose any cards permanently." Tim chuckled. "It's always reassuring to meet your type. I wish there were more people with charmed lives to show us mere mortals what's possible in this world."

"I am, right?" Clark was suddenly serious and focused. "Charmed, I mean. Getting to live here, and have people like Special Agent Davies watching out for me, right at the very moment when I've attracted some kind of the wrong attention through my work. It's... weird. Uncanny."

"Now that's just called having friends." Tim chuckled again. "It's no coincidence that they step up when you need them. Same with me and Roger. We aren't here by accident, and when you don't need us, we'll be doing something else that keeps us sharp. So do me a favor and keep needing us for a little while longer, will you? I like Brand's cooking, and this whole _carpe diem_ party is fun."

They both laughed, looking over to where Brand was manning the grill and lecturing Agent Quinn and Betty on marinating techniques.

"It's not a party; it's just Sunday. Jones and his father always do something together on Sunday."

"And when you've nearly been killed, they invite a crowd over to make a show of strength and protection. And break out the motorcycles to pass on life lessons and family traditions," Tim added with a wink. "I was also told that you have a suicide pact I need to watch out for."

"A _what_?" Clark was horrified. "Does Mr. Jones think that I made a _suicide pact_ with his _son_?"

"No, no - hang on. It was said with quite a bit of sarcasm; I thought it was a joke, and that you knew about it." Tim held his hands up to indicate his own innocence. "No pact, I guess. I must have misunderstood."

"Oh." Clark grimaced. "Well, uh, there kind of is a pact. Just nothing to do with suicide. Except we both nearly died last night, I guess, so-,"

"It was kind of a... laughing sarcasm. Like it was one of your charming quirks. It was nothing bad, I promise, though I do recommend not using it to get the two of you hurt or killed," Tim qualified swiftly. "FP's got a dark sense of humor, but it was definitely humor on that topic."

"Okay." Clark was still frowning.

"I won't tell you that he called you Speed Racer if that's going to be another problem."

"He did?" Clark couldn't help a small smile at that idea. "I learned to ride a motorcycle in a country where you basically wanted to get where you were going as quickly as possible, since people didn't enforce rules of the road. But I'm not a professional."

"Yeah, I'm not sure he meant the comparison to be on the basis of professionalism either." Tim laughed. "But it was a compliment. Apparently you have some chops, and you showed up Davies at something-,"

"I'm kind of fast. It's just a habit."

"Well, FP appreciated it." Tim leaned back contentedly.

They fell into a thoughtful silence for a few moments.

"So… How do you fill in the, uh, smoking crater?" Clark leaned toward Tim and lowered his voice. "I'm not entirely sure where to start."

"Well, I'm gonna tell you a few stories, and I think they might help you figure that out for yourself." Tim seemed to weigh something and then he nodded decisively. "I think you're probably a lot like a young fellow I worked with about eight years ago. You might like his style, and I could see some of his approaches working for you."

Clark leaned in further, all ears.

Jughead watched this play out from his own lawn chair as he tossed a tennis ball for Trigger and Roger to compete over. He knew Clark was still feeling unsettled and probably wildly unsafe after the events of the previous day, but this was the most relaxed and engaged that he'd seemed since before they'd rescued him in the park.

"Taking notes?" FP leaned over to speak quietly to Jughead.

"Kind of." Jughead turned toward his father. "I want to help."

"It's not your job," FP said carefully, "but I wouldn't mind helping either. If you come up with anything, let me know. We can work on it together."

Jughead nodded. "Sure. An intervention."

"Oh, boy." FP laughed. "Maybe not that. But maybe some of the things that helped you, adapted to suit Clark?"

"Uh, how would they be adapted? Don't they just work or not work?"

FP massaged his eyes briefly. "You think everyone responds exactly the way you do to trauma? Or therapy, for that matter?"

"No-o, but-,"

"Look, you've been in the middle of a lot of this, so maybe you don't see how people adapted to you." FP looked at Jughead assessingly. "You can't just recreate what helped you. It has to work for the person you're trying to help."

"How will I know what works for other people?" Jughead was frowning.

"Trial and error. Just like we did with you."

"Oh."

"Yeah. 'Oh.'" FP smiled. "Give it some thought. You know Clark better than I do, but we'll make it a joint effort. Brandon's doing a lot for him too, but you always responded well to having a variety of approaches coming from different people in your life. Talk to Betty, maybe. She gets it, and in a very different way than you or I do."

"Okay." Jughead thought it over for a few seconds. "Okay. I'll let you know what I come up with."

**00000**

Sweet Pea paced as he waited outside of the restroom for Alice. He was no expert, but it seemed like she was taking a long time.

When she eventually came out, it was obvious that she'd been crying.

Sweet Pea took a few steps backward, motioning for Alice to follow him.

They both walked toward the water's edge.

"Worth the extra drive?" Sweet Pea squinted out over Lake Ontario. "Or should I have just taken you home?"

Alice was silent for a few moments. She sat down on the grass.

Sweet Pea waited for a reply, and when it did not come he felt himself stiffen over the implicit rejection.

And then Alice began somersaulting down the hill, toward the water.

"Ohhhh, crap." Sweet Pea moved swiftly, but wasn't sure what he planned to do - or what Alice was doing, for that matter - and then Alice popped up onto her feet with a flourish.

"Hello-o-o, Toronto!" Alice shouted toward the lake. "Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted from me?"

Alice kicked off her shoes and socks and moved forward onto the sandy strip of beach, her feet splashing into the water, and she did a cartwheel - and slipped when her left hand landed on a slick stone, nearly falling completely into the water.

"Hey!" Sweet Pea kicked off his own socks and shoes in a hurry and followed her into the water. "Be careful."

"Oh, like that makes anything safer." Alice laughed, a hysterical note in her voice. "I'm pretty sure I can make things a whole lot worse - and okay, yeah, I've proven _that _again and again -, but is there really any way of making things better? Do you believe that's even possible, Sweet Pea?"

"Up until, like, two minutes ago, I was kind of hoping." Sweet Pea looked down at Alice in consternation. His plan of surprising her with a view of Toronto and the best burgers he could come up with suddenly seemed pathetic. Inadequate. Maybe even like a terrible mistake, as though he'd selfishly thrown a whole lot of pressure on top of what was already a dangerously high-octane day.

"Based on your years of experience seeing things turn out 'all for the best' or because you've always been able to force the ending by fighting to the death - or at least to first blood?" Alice was suddenly enraged on Sweet Pea's behalf. "You deserve... _more_. I don't think you're getting a better deal than I am, though, so don't worry about that. It all sucks, and obviously it sucks more for you than for me."

Sweet Pea was completely lost now. He figured he'd better keep his mouth shut and see where things went, since it was a pretty long drive back to Riverdale. With any luck he could steer things back toward neutral territory before then, but luck was not likely to be on his side if he said the wrong thing right now.

"I'm getting the bank accounts back. I'm going to college. My mother has everything set up through a lawyer so that she never has to see me again. Which is good, because she's not getting out anytime soon. But apparently I can get out and rent an apartment. Buy a place. I could just-,"

Sweet Pea wasn't sure what possessed him to change his plan without thinking it through, but he grabbed Alice's shoulder and started to steer her out of the water.

"Seriously, Sweet Pea. I thought that was the problem, you know?"

Sweet Pea snorted at that. "Even if I had a clue what you were talking about, I sincerely doubt that I'd 'know,' Alice."

"Exactly! Because everyone thinks it's money and independence and the ability to bankroll a life, but as it turns out that's the ultimate kiss off." Alice stumbled slightly and came to a halt when the sand transitioned back to grass under her feet. "There are no more excuses or reasons or pretexts for running into each other, for living with Veronica and Hermione, for getting a ride with you out to-,"

Sweet Pea tugged on Alice's shoulder and they both sat down on the edge of the grass and faced the lake once more.

"Do you hate me, Sweet Pea?"

"Alice," Sweet Pea ran both hands over his face, "not really, no. Why are you even asking me that?"

"Because I'm rich. I have options. I have nobody, I have nothing, but now I have to go have a life apparently. Because God forbid that I squander the ill-gotten gains of my parents."

"Well, in that case... I guess I have to take it back." Sweet Pea raised one eyebrow when Alice's head snapped around so that she could study his expression. "I am honor bound to hate all rich people. On principle. Irrevocably, completely, and especially when they're total psychos who make me take my shoes off and get wet in late October in freaking Lake Ontario."

Alice's jaw dropped slightly.

"Almost as much as I hate people who have an honest reaction to being bought off and packed off by their parents." Sweet Pea dropped a large hand onto Alice's head and impulsively pulled her hair free of its ponytail. "The poor little rich girl thing is just so passé, and criminally insane parents are totally overdone. I mean, come on, be original."

"I seriously cannot believe that you just messed up my hair." Alice gaped at Sweet Pea.

"Yeah, but at least now you know the truth: it's because I hate you." Sweet Pea shrugged, wondering if he'd entirely taken leave of his senses, but also a little giddy with the feeling that maybe he had. "So what did you expect?"

"Civility? A little understanding?" Alice shook her head slowly, a small smile starting to crack through her dark expression. She reached for the hair tie that Sweet Pea was now twisting around his fingers. He pulled it out of reach. "Appropriate regard for how hard it is to look cute after crying in a public restroom?"

"My bad. You made it look so effortless. I had no idea." Sweet Pea's deadpan expression cracked then and he met Alice's smile with one of his own. "You have my respect, madam."

"_Madam_?" Alice lunged for the hair tie then, and as Sweet Pea playfully fought back they tumbled off of the grass.

Sweet Pea spared just a thought for how much trouble they'd be in if they tracked sand all through FP's car... but he quickly decided that it was well worth any trouble he got into later.

Sweet Pea pinned Alice under himself on the narrow strip of beach, but when she gasped in surprise he flipped them swiftly so that she was straddling his chest instead and he had a firm grip on her wrists. "Better?"

"Than what, you nutter?" Alice yanked hard on her wrists, and Sweet Pea released her without any resistance - so she nearly fell backward.

"Are you okay, miss?"

Oh. They had not gone unnoticed. A man in a park uniform was striding toward them.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... getting frisky. You know how it is." Alice stood up, then offered Sweet Pea a hand that he ignored as he stood up quickly as well. "Inappropriate time and place, right? I always mess that up. I need to write a note on my hand or something, but I just keep _bathing_. Hygiene, am I right?"

"It won't happen again." Sweet Pea ducked his head and tried to look non-threatening when the uniformed man clearly identified him as the main offender in spite of Alice's bizarre monologue.

The man crossed his arms and merely blinked at them as they grabbed their shoes and hurried toward the car.

They made it a full block away before they were both laughing so hard that tears were streaming down their faces.

They were still laughing when Sweet Pea navigated them into the drive-through of the burger place he'd researched online.

"How did you know that I love burgers?" Alice looked at the menu in delight. "This looks fantastic."

"Jughead gave me some ideas when I picked up FP's car this morning," Sweet Pea confessed. "Although to be honest, it's kind of a cliché. Burgers, prisons, long wrestling matches on the beach-,"

Alice felt laughter bubbling up again and she swatted Sweet Pea. "Give it a rest with the jokes until I order. My pity laugh can only extend so far."

Sweet Pea grinned, but bit back his reply in the name of getting through the drive-through swiftly and without further incident. Instead he took a long, indulgent look at Alice as she studied the options for the burgers.

"Take a picture, why don't you?" Alice quipped.

When Sweet Pea did, raising his phone and taking several in quick succession, Alice lost it laughing again.

"I'm just gonna-," Sweet Pea steered the car out of the drive-through, "-give you a minute to compose yourself. Then we'll go inside and eat."

"Sounds good." Alice grinned up at him, still giggling. "That sounds really good."

**00000**

**So much fun! Aaaaand I think we're going to start seeing collisions very soon. As always, your notes are loved and inspire me greatly as I hack through all the plots and then (****ideally!) ****weave them into something. I hope you're all staying safe and sane, and I wish you a lovely and restful weekend!**

**-Button**


	13. Chapter 13

**Lucky chapter thirteen! :)**

**Skyrider45, it was so great to hear from you! I'm really sorry to hear that recent weeks have not been so good; it made me think of that song from _Babe_ about having words to make a day for you. Every writer's wish, I think! You were very right about your review being super encouraging, so thanks - and many good vibes (and singing mice?) to you! I'm really loving seeing everyone grow together in positive ways (and for Brand a little less self-assurance is probably positive), and I am so glad that line from FP in particular stood out; I think that was an important one for Jug. Clark is such an unexpectedly beloved OC, and I've enjoyed getting to know him in this story too. And yay for Alice and Sweet Pea getting some screen time! Those three (Alice, Sweet Pea, and Gunnar) are giving me a run for my money - I'll be interested in seeing where they take things, but Sweet Pea is definitely starting to be more of a real character and that's fun all on its own!**

**Living Lucid Dream, thank you for the wonderful review! I am so proud of your feedback on the "layering" (flourishing bow!), and I loved that you zoomed in on the mention of FP's time in jail. Jug's getting ownership of his experiences (not just saying what he thinks people want to hear - or the converse!), and sometimes those moments of just saying something and it not blowing up is a big step. Brand is going to combust (go nuclear?), yep. I think that might be part of why everyone's getting a little more time and space in these chapters to be fully and completely positioned - because there is definitely a 'before' feeling as I write, and I think we're going to see things go to 'after' in irrevocable ways when things do blow up. Honestly, I thought we'd be post-explosion by chapter 13(!), but it looks like we're just going to keep strolling until everyone is right on top of the land mine. Yay for a stab to the feels! :-D Clark is so much fun to write, too. I think we'll get more of his story as we go. :) And yeah, the whole Alice thing just sort of happened; I was starting to see the whole scene devolve into painful awkwardness - and then Sweet Pea just pulled it out (thanks, Sweet Pea!). Characters are really surprising me in this story; it's never boring!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Jughead leaned into Betty on the porch swing, inhaling deeply and enjoying the mingled scents of the cookout and her shampoo.

Sunday had turned out to be a relief, from finally telling Brand at least part of the situation with Donn and Rose to some fantastic quality time with his dad on the motorcycles, to seeing Clark perk up as he got to know Tim - and then Jughead and Clark trying together to demonstrate some agility moves to Trigger by leading Roger through them. That was looking more promising all the time, since Trigger was competitive and had energetically followed Roger through his paces in the back yard.

Now everyone had gone home except for Betty. Jughead had checked in very briefly with Alice when Sweet Pea picked up his bike and dropped off FP's car, and he'd caught up with Archie via text about the concert and begun plans to arrange a sleepover so they could catch up more fully later in the week, so even his phone was quiet for the time being.

"Do you have any other ideas for what I could do for Clark?" Jughead had picked Betty's brain, but she'd been reluctant to put into words what she'd done to 'help' Jughead during the spring and summer months. She kept insisting that she'd just shown up, and only with Jughead coaching her heavily did she describe some of her efforts as being slightly more intentional.

"No. I don't think I do." Betty leaned backward into Jughead's weight and reached up to where his hand rested on her shoulder, lacing their fingers together. "But if I think of anything, I'll let you know."

"Thanks. He's not like Archie, where I kind of already know what he needs and I have a lot of ways to connect with him. I think if we'd been friends for years without these crazy shared experiences, I'd be more ready."

"Oh, Juggie. Nothing makes you ready for this sort of thing." Betty shook her head slightly. "It's just traumatic to see someone you love in that kind of danger. It's even hard to pull them out and bring them to safety, knowing that's just the beginning of them coming back to you - and to the relationship that you had."

"Betty Cooper," Jughead felt a slow grin transform his expression and he rested his forehead against the back of her head, "did you just say that you love me?"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure that I said you love Clark." Betty laughed quietly when Jughead grunted unhappily. "But... yes. I guess I do love you, Jughead Jones."

"Wow, Betts. That is… incredible." Jughead wrapped both arms around her and pulled her tightly against his chest as he inhaled deeply once again. "I thought it would take years before you loved me back."

Betty laced her fingers with his once again in their new position. Jughead could hear her heart pounding, even though her words were steady. "Well, maybe it did. It almost feels like years have passed since last fall, don't you think?" Betty's voice was quieter. "You might find that in your friendship with Clark, too. Things happen quickly and intensely under pressure - and not just the bad things."

Jughead was absorbing that idea and sorting out his thoughts in order to reply when the screen door banged open behind them.

"Jones, Special Agent Davies just attacked your dad and has, like, twenty pairs of handcuffs and a bunch of tools. He said I should come get you because your dad can't slip a gag but also probably can't tolerate one if he keeps foaming at the mouth like he is - uh, those are Brand's words, not mine. Oh, and Betty's invited to come train, too."

"What? I _told _Brand not to do this," Jughead said in exasperation. "Dad is way too tired after yesterday. And it's a school night."

"Davies is in an insanely good mood for some reason; it's kind of scary. He also wants to know why there's no duct tape anywhere in the house."

"He shouldn't even have to ask that question." Jughead sighed. "Although I am surprised that he didn't notice before now."

"He also said something about you having trouble training effectively when your dad's in danger?" Clark shrugged helplessly. "I don't think he actually _is _in danger, but-,"

"Oh, man. If Brand said that, I'd better get in there."

"Um, Brand attacked your dad?" Betty had twisted around on the swing to look at both Jughead and Clark. "And invited me to, what, help?"

"Apparently we're practicing escapes from handcuffs," Jughead explained. "But yeah, basically."

"Maybe I'll just leave you guys to it." Betty gave Jughead a deeply skeptical look, but could not suppress a smile. "How come my training with Agent Quinn is never this interesting? We did a few basic holds and escapes this morning and very little else. I might have to come practice with you guys some time - when it's not a school night. If you can, make sure your dad gets a turn to cuff Brand, too. I think it would be good for both of them."

"I'll do my best. And I'll text you photos if we do manage to turn the tables." Jughead grinned as they both stood. "You'll tell me what's up with the footage tomorrow?"

"I'm supposed to let Brand fill you in after he's fully briefed," Betty shrugged apologetically. "We can talk about it after your shift at the RA, though."

"Sounds good." Jughead nudged Clark back into the house and began to swing the larger wooden door closed. "I'll be right in, Clark. Go tell Brand I'm on my way and that he should definitely not be gagging Dad. And if he does it anyway, make sure it's not with anything Dad can't breathe through."

"I'm on it. Good night, Betty. Have fun, MacGyver." Clark winked at Jughead and then disappeared into the house.

**00000**

"What are you _doing_, Brand?" After Betty left for the evening, Jughead had quickly ascertained that everyone was in the basement, including Trigger, which seemed like an unwise combination. "It's a school night, and Dad already said not to attack him for restraints training."

"Aww, did I interrupt something between you and the warrior queen?" Brand was grinning where he stood over an obviously furious FP, who was lying on his back and handcuffed tightly to the weights bench that was bolted to the floor. Trigger was sniffing around his restrained wrists somewhat anxiously.

"Training waits for no man, Jones. You know this. And you were right there when I told your father that I was giving him a courtesy warning; he was fully apprised that this was coming."

Jughead was surprised when his dad did not respond to that absurd claim, and settled instead for merely glaring at Brand. Clark shrugged as well, and his expression indicated that he'd tried to have this conversation with Brand already.

"That is definitely not how I remember that conversation going. And you did interrupt something, yes," Jughead crossed his arms, examining his dad's position critically and with some concern when he saw how the position and handcuffs were straining FP's shoulders.

"More profound than Agent Quinn asking me out?" Brand's grin grew even bigger.

"Uh, wow. Really? And yeah - it just so happens that Betty said she loves me." Jughead gave Brand a look as he made his way toward his dad. "And I hope you didn't shoot Agent Sarah down too hard. She was super nice to you all day. Where are the handcuff keys?"

"Eh, the warrior queen loving you is old news. But we can talk about it if you want. Especially if you said something stupid; I know exactly the kind of things you're capable of. And... don't forget that you and I made a deal."

"About handcuff keys?" Jughead had no memory of that. "I don't think we did, Brand."

"No. About Sarah asking me out."

Oh. _Oh_.

"Wait. You said yes?" Jughead's jaw dropped and he turned to face Brand again, even though his dad made a sound of protest over the delay. Trigger alerted and began licking FP's face, so Jughead pulled him away by his collar. "Stop that, Trig. You know Dad hates being licked like that. When are you going out with her?"

"Soon. But not before we train tonight." Brand gestured toward FP. "So focus. And let your dog go. He's down here because your father was going to hurt himself by fighting the cuffs - not to mention irritating me by pitching a fit -, but he's forced to behave as long as Trigger's willing to lick him to death."

"That's mean." Jughead massaged his forehead as he reluctantly let go of Trigger's collar and let the dog return to sniffing curiously around the weight bench.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'effective.' Now, there are a lot of techniques when it comes to handcuffs. While I'm going to teach you how to pick a number of types, the first thing to learn is when not to pick them."

"As usual." This sounded familiar to Jughead. "Whenever I'm likely to get caught in the process-,"

"Or if you're likely to lose a tool somewhere conspicuous, or if the cuffs are a style where you can't pick them due to their design or your position." Brand reached down to pat FP's shoulder. "That's you right now."

FP snarled at him, but his protest was cut off when Trigger hurried to investigate the cause of his distress.

"Anyway." Brand hid a smile as he turned back to focus on Jughead. "In those cases, there's a technique for stressing the metal over time and breaking the cuffs. It takes forever, but sometimes you've got that much time to spend on it. The best trick is to find something metal that's stronger than the cuffs are, and use that to wear them down more quickly. Oh, and do _not _under _any _circumstances take a gun to a set of handcuffs. We'll talk more about that later, but I want that known before we get started."

"Just in case?" Jughead narrowed his eyes.

"Just in case," Brand concurred mildly. "Now, Clark, lesson for you - what do you think is the first step for FP in this position? And what do you think my next move should be?"

Clark stood up straighter and thought quickly. "Well, his wrists are twisted into a really weird configuration, and you secured his thumbs so I don't think he can rotate them to get more play. So maybe his only option is that stressing technique you mentioned?"

"Excellent," Brand praised him, and Clark seemed to straighten up even further. "He's in a tough spot, and after an hour or two like this he won't have the strength or mobility in his shoulders to do much, so he has to act fast. In fact, he's at some risk for blood clots if he's left like this for too long, so this is a nasty one."

FP made another brief frustrated noise.

"Yeah, yeah. You make this too much fun, old man, and that's always going to be your downfall." Brand looked over at Jughead, who had begun examining the tools that Brand had strewn around the basement. "And here's my next move, Clark. It's one you can learn a lot from. Jones? You can give me my service weapon now."

Jughead froze for a moment, but then held out his hand defiantly. "Key first."

Clark's eyes widened.

"I love that you've learned this lesson, kid, and this is clearly a banner day on a whole lot of fronts, but you're officially scaring your dad." Brand turned toward Clark. "Pay close attention, because this is one of the most vital lessons that you can learn: never start a fight that you can't win. It's taken Jones a while, but I had a good feeling that tonight might be the night."

Jughead turned toward FP and grabbed Trigger's collar a second time. "Dad, don't worry; I'm not going to shoot anyone."

FP immediately began objecting. "Jughead, no - give Brandon the gun. Is it in your waistband? That's not safe."

He sounded exasperated instead of pleased or impressed. Jughead rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, confused and disappointed by his father's response.

"Hey. The safety on all of my guns works just fine," Brand interjected.

"Brandon and I are headed for ice cream in the very near future, if not his permanent eviction from this household," FP's tone was threatening when he shot a look at Brand, "but we're both on the same side... for the most part. He's not going to hurt me, and you don't need to protect me from him. Not with a gun. And I honestly wouldn't mind seeing you learn to pick handcuffs; everything he's told you so far is good advice."

"It could save your life. Remember when those drug dealers cuffed you? That was game over. I want to be sure that we have no more of that." Brand nodded in agreement with FP.

Jughead's jaw dropped a second time when he realized that, even though Brand had jumped FP and handcuffed him to a workout bench, they were somehow still ganging up against him.

"_No_. Not like this. Not when Dad's in pain and going to have blood clots." Jughead scowled. He held out his hand again. "Give me the key, Brand, or the safety comes off. And you know what? I'm pretty sure a gun would have worked against the drug dealers. Just a wild guess."

Clark's eyes grew even wider and he began backing away from the situation.

"Kid, we all know you're not going to shoot me, so-,"

"You know exactly how much a window costs," Jughead let go of Trigger and pulled the gun from his waistband then, aiming it at the glass panes in the door to the back yard. "Dad can take it out of your paycheck."

"_Jughead_!" FP objected more strenuously, even though Trigger was delighted to find himself free once again and to have FP within easy reach. "Give your godfather the gun. Do _not _shoot out a window just to make a point. And come get your dog out of my face."

Jughead frowned down at his dad. "I'm trying to-,"

"You heard the man. Where do you want to start? Once you get your dad free, I'll cuff you and Clark together and you can try some two-man escapes."

"Yes, sir!" Clark took a step forward then and sounded far too eager. Jughead gave him an irritated look as he picked up the pocketknife a second time. "Come on, Jones, we need these skills. After what happened yesterday, we should definitely be taking our training seriously."

This was probably a way that he could help Clark, Jughead realized. And a way that his dad could help, too, although that probably wasn't something that FP was thinking about right at this moment.

Managing a weak smile, Jughead nodded. "Fine, Clark. Okay. We'll learn some escapes."

"Great! I'm going to try opening this double-locking pair with a bobby pin while you work with your dad." Clark sat down so that he was cross-legged on the floor and began fussing with a set of cuffs.

"The trick there is to keep from breaking the pin," Brand offered encouragingly. "Some cuffs are fairly stiff in order to discourage precisely what you're trying now. Do you know what you're trying to get the mechanism to do?"

"Not entirely." Clark's brow furrowed in concentration.

"Here; let's use training cuffs first, so you can see the whole mechanism while you learn." Brand offered a different pair to Clark and then looked up at Jughead. "Come on, Jones; move it. Try to do something before your father's in any more pain. The knife's not a bad tool to start with. What do you think your next step should be?"

"Attacking you for the key wasn't a good enough plan?" Jughead glared, still annoyed that his gambit had been unsuccessful - and unappreciated.

"Are you kidding? I can die a happy man now that you've snaked my service weapon, kid. I have never been prouder of you; I think this was the single biggest breakthrough you've had in all of our training. Come here." Brand motioned for Jughead to come in for a hug.

Jughead rolled his eyes and did not move toward his godfather. "You're just trying to disarm me."

"Wow, that's some kind of rejection, grasshopper. I mean, you're right, but I did also want to hug you. In any case, why don't you try seeing which attachments fit into the locking mechanism." Brand motioned Jughead toward FP. "That's going to limit your options, and it should also give you some clues about where to start."

"Sorry, Dad." Jughead crouched next to the weight bench. "I'll get you out as quickly as I can."

FP sighed with relief when Jughead set the gun on the floor, and he dropped his head back onto the padded bench.

"After today we can outlaw sneak attacks during workouts," Jughead added. "Or using Trig as a gag."

FP nodded wryly. "Along with any use of firearms during training."

"And... at some point tonight we should jump Brand and cuff _him _like this for a good long time," Jughead's voice was low.

This time FP raised an eyebrow and regarded Jughead with more interest.

"_And_ get pictures." Jughead nudged his father's shoulder and gave him a conspiratorial look before he sat all the way onto the floor and began sizing pocketknife attachments against the cuffs' locking mechanism.

"That's enough chatting. Focus, Jones." Brand's eyes were narrowed suspiciously, though Jughead was fairly certain he hadn't overheard anything.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm working on it, Brand."

**00000**

"Oh my God, you guys are nuts." Kevin was hanging on Jughead's every word over lunch. "So then did you all fall asleep together on the couch again?"

Jughead slapped himself on the forehead. "No, Kevin. That only happened once. Anyway, my dad used the word 'eviction' a bunch of times until he realized that he was upsetting Clark - and also until Brand pointed out that the only reason he's still living with us is because my dad doesn't actually want him to close on the house down our street-,"

"So intrusive," Kevin interjected sagely.

"Not really. And way less so than living in the guest room." Jughead was getting the distinct impression that Kevin saw things very differently from the way that he did. "But long story short, Clark outlasted even Brand on training enthusiasm and we were all up way too late. And if you ever need a set of handcuffs picked, I've probably got you covered."

"Your life is magical." Kevin heaved a dramatic sigh of contentment and then laughed when Jughead threw a fry in his general direction.

Alice was snickering too, but Jughead really wanted the rest of his fries so he let that go. Besides, she hadn't given him crap about Sweet Pea and the advice he'd shared, so they might just be even.

"Are you okay?" Betty spoke very quietly into Jughead's ear.

"What? Yeah. Why?"

"Because, you know-," Betty waved a hand in the air as she struggled to find the right words, "I guess... you're usually more protective of Brand."

"He, uh, needs it less these days." Jughead realized even as he spoke that it was true. "I can rag on him or gang up on him with Dad or Clark. He can handle it."

"You actually pulled a gun on him?"

"Not really." Jughead sighed. "Anyway, he was happy about it. Apparently it's a major training breakthrough that he'd been waiting for."

"Kevin's right. You're all nuts." Betty gave Jughead a look that was only half teasing.

"It's a wolf pack thing." Jughead wrapped an arm around Betty. "Nobody's going to get hurt."

"As long as you're sure." Betty seemed to relax somewhat then. "I worry about you all sometimes."

**00000**

"Ronnie! We have to get together after school this week. What's a good day?" Archie came bounding down the hall toward his girlfriend. "I've already gotten two calls about gigs and one call from the newspaper, and we need to make a plan. My mom's planning to visit from Chicago next weekend to help, but she said that we need to start talking about what we want before then so that she can make a game plan for managing us."

"Really? We need _managing_? That's amazing news, Archie. Have you talked to Gunnar?" Veronica was surprised and pleased to hear that they were getting so much response already, but she bit her lip as she thought through the logistics. "It might be easiest if you two came up with some times. I'm sure that I can make one of them work."

"You got it," Archie looped an arm around her. "And Veronica, I think what I most want to know from you is how much is too much. We can be selective and mysterious - we could even be musical recluses - if you don't want to do a whole lot. That's completely cool."

"No, no-," Veronica laid a hand on Archie's shoulder to get his attention more fully. "You've created an incredible opportunity with your new songs, and now Gunnar and I get to do this with you. I'm not going to be the one to hold us back."

"Bu-ut...?" Archie came to a full stop, gently turning Veronica toward himself. "I know it's not going to be that simple, not for any of us. I don't need an answer right now, but I really want you to feel free to arrange your schedule-,"

"It's not my schedule this time. Alice is… don't tell Gunnar because I don't know what's going on with him, but Alice is figuring out some stuff. I want to be there for her, and I think that means spending more time around home this week. I'm planning to ask her tonight, when we're not at school."

"Oh." Archie nodded. "Because she visited-,"

"Archie, not at school." Veronica inclined her head toward the students moving around the hall. "But yeah. Basically."

"No, I get it. I'm planning a serious catch-up with Jug, too, so that we can talk about his dad and Clark. I also want to check in with him about the songs, just in case things are different now that things are… different."

They started walking together through the hall toward their respective classes.

Veronica nodded approvingly. "That's smart. He seems really chill today, but I think that's only because Brand's been running them around the clock over there since Saturday. They're all too exhausted to think straight."

Archie laughed. "Could be. My dad wants to go over, too. He's started talking about 'the echo chamber of Brand and FP' again, and if he hears about the handcuff training-,"

"I know, right?" Veronica widened her eyes for emphasis. "Betty thinks it's all a sort of coping mechanism, but I know I'd feel a lot better if your dad checked in with them."

"So… I'll get Gunnar's schedule and I'll keep you posted," Archie promised as they reached his classroom.

"Sounds good." Veronica nodded firmly. "I'll let you know how things go on my end too."

**00000**

"Davies, I need a favor." Agent Chloe Williams stopped Brand in the kitchenette of the RA on Monday.

"Uh… okay. What is it?" Brand raised an eyebrow, but he had not yet had to deal with the media manager and he figured he shouldn't start burning bridges around the RA just yet.

"A bunch of us kicked in to get Clark a card. You can contribute too, sign your name and all, but what I really want to ask is if you'd help him pick out a gun. He doesn't know that he's being groomed for hire, so he might think about getting something for home defense, or maybe-,"

"Hang on. You got Clark a card and stuffed enough cash into it for him to purchase a firearm?" Brand looked around in astonishment at the few people he could see moving through the RA. "That's… wow, Chloe. Okay. Yeah, I can kick in too. And make sure he gets something suitable. That's really, uh-," Brand stopped, realizing that he wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to say.

"He's one of us," Williams waved him off. "He was the only one who was unarmed on Saturday, and he was targeted."

Agent Williams set her jaw, clearly considering whether she wanted to say more. After a few moments, she continued. "We can't do the same for the other intern, but if we have another teambuilding exercise or an assignment offsite where he's involved, I'd like your permission to be the one to work with him."

"With Jones?" This time Brand was sure that he'd misunderstood something. "Or do you still mean Clark?"

"Jones. Obviously. The one who can't carry a gun," Williams said impatiently. "I'd like to be the one to personally see that he isn't targeted."

"Okay. Absolutely. Consider it done." Brand wasn't sure he would ever understand Williams entirely, but he was pretty sure that he was understanding her in this moment. "You'll be on deck the next time we're all offsite. And would you mind if I tell Jones it's a standing offer? I think he'd really appreciate hearing that."

Williams suddenly looked uncomfortable. "If you really want to, and you think that would be a good idea. Sure. It's not a secret or anything."

"Okay. Also, uh, I'm in the doghouse at home, so maybe you could help me out, too." Brand figured he might as well make it clear that there was no obligation here, so that they could keep - or maybe even build on - whatever good momentum they'd just begun.

"That is truly shocking." Agent Williams' tone was dry, but she smiled to soften her response.

"I know. You'd think I'd have the drill down by now." Brand shrugged. "I think I need to turn up tonight with steaks and something particularly impressive for dessert."

"This is for FP?"

"I forget that everyone around here knows him now. Yeah, it's for FP." Brand nodded.

"If I'd ticked him off seriously, I would sleep with one eye open. I'd also give serious consideration to surf and turf - get him a ribeye and two small lobsters."

"I know how surf and turf-,"

"None of those tough, long-lived lobsters. And I'm going to write down the name of a bakery and a particular variation of derby pie. Do not even _think _of deviating from what I have written."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Brand was officially curious. "There's no bourbon in it, is there?"

Williams hesitated. "I forgot that FP doesn't do bourbon. I'm not sure. Well, I'll write down the name of the bakery and you can ask."

"Thanks." Brand smiled.

"Thank you for taking care of the interns." Williams scribbled the name of a bakery and pie onto a scrap of paper. "Can I give you something for their dessert? You're feeding the interns too, right?"

"I do get regular paychecks," Brand said. "I'm not nearly as destitute as my lack of car makes it seem."

"No, I know that. I just wanted to do something." Williams looked uncomfortable again. "But don't tell them that I-,"

"I think it's covered, Chloe. You already did several somethings. I'll help Clark pick out a handgun, and I'll let Jones know that he's got a partner for our next outing, whenever that may be. Why don't you bring in something from that bakery for the whole RA later in the week, and if you really want to do them a favor, turn a blind eye if Jones and Clark eat more than their fair share. Deal?"

"Deal." Williams laughed.

Brand gave her a grin and a nod before he headed back to his office, surprised and pleased.

This wasn't how he'd pictured teambuilding working out for the RA, but he'd certainly take it.

**00000**

"We have to be famous again? Are we going to get stalked by photographers? That was the worst." Jones cut straight to the heart of the matter when Brand ushered him into his new - comparatively palatial - office and motioned him into the gorgeous leather chair intended for visitors. "Whoa. Whose office is this?"

"Mine. Apparently it's time for the RA to be less embarrassing." Brand tapped the top of his large new desk. It was a dark, rich wood and definitely overkill. "I think someone got the impression that we'd be featured in a magazine spread. That desk is yours, by the way."

Jones had been given a tidy, sleek secretary desk in a corner so that his workspace folded away when he was not at the RA.

"Huh. They obviously like you better."

"To be fair, I do a lot more work around here," Brand responded dryly. "Your chair is more comfortable than mine, though, so I don't want to hear any complaints."

The large leather chair behind Brand's desk certainly looked the part (if 'the part' was meant to be an analogue of 'Wall Street tycoon,' anyway), but Jones' much-smaller chair had seemingly magic ergonomic properties.

"Did Clark get a desk too?"

"I don't know. Don't make waves if he's still at a folding table, though. It's only temporary for him."

Jones shrugged, which was not acquiescence, but Brand found he didn't really care. Those two had their pact, and they would probably do what they wanted regardless of his input.

Brand respected that.

"Does he have to be famous too?" Jones looked like he was prepared to be fired up if Clark was being allowed to skate on this whole initiative.

"Clark is in the unenviable position of being your damsel in distress, Jones. I wouldn't poke at that too much." Brand gave him a serious look. "If the footage is released the way Wilson thinks will work best, he's going to have more people seeing him at his most vulnerable than I'd wish on anyone."

"Well... he might get a girlfriend out of it," Jones looked thoughtful. "Isn't that a thing?"

"Do you wish the warrior queen was attracted to you because she felt… protective?" Brand rubbed the back of his neck. "You might just skip bringing any of this up with Clark."

"Betty feels protective sometimes. It's fine."

"She also looks at you like you're a lethal weapon, and she likes that about you." Brand shook his head. "Seriously, leave Clark alone on this one. He won't appreciate your version of encouragement."

"Fine, Brand. Are we going to get stalked, though?"

"Maybe." Brand sighed. "The bigger issue for today is that we need to be coached so we don't get off script on the FBI. At all."

"Well, I know exactly how that works. I'll help you, Brand." Jones grinned.

"You failed miserably when we were on live TV. I would not be bragging about that if I were you." Brand smirked, though. Jones was taking this a whole lot better than he'd anticipated. "We're also going to try and spread some of the press around. Andrews and company are our official tie-in brand, based on their being photogenic human interest types."

"Really? That's kind of cool. Good publicity for gigs. But… are we going to get in trouble for all of this?" Jones grimaced.

Brand figured he meant Rose.

"Things were smooth enough with the interview in the spring that I think we'll be just fine this time. It shouldn't be nearly as liable to go in an unpredictable direction, and I've already made a phone call."

"You called about this? The amusement park and everything?"

"One of these days you're going to realize that I have a clue and take basic precautions."

Jones was frowning.

"What is it, kid?"

"I just didn't know that you made a call. I feel... out of the loop." Jones ran a hand through his hair.

"Only because you are. That's intentional." Brand was done discussing this. "Now, you're not going to give our media consultant any trouble? Even if we're told to play you younger again?"

"I'll behave, Brand." Jones still looked agitated.

"Hey. You can trust me. I'm watching out for you, kid, and you already know I'd kill for you." Brand figured he could give him that much reassurance. "Keeping you out of the loop is our best bet for making sure that nobody ever tries to play us off of each other."

Jones looked mildly ill.

"Nobody's going to try that, Jones." Brand had the distinct impression that he was making everything worse by continuing to talk, but he was getting worried about Jones' counterintuitive response - and his habit of acting impulsively when upset. "We're locked down. Air-tight. Anyone coming for you has to come through me first."

Jones nodded slowly, his eyes averted. "Yeah. I know."

"All right, then. Let's find out what our adoring public wants from us." Brand stood and motioned for Jones to precede him out of the office. "Agent Quinn says this is good for the internal investigation, from which I am barred thanks to your involvement, and apparently it could be good for the RA generally. Wilson would have preferred it never happened, but as long as it has, we can use it."

Jones smiled weakly. "I guess it's nice that I can make up for some of the trouble I've caused."

"It is nice. You're a team player and all that rot that the FBI loves seeing. Even Agent Williams is warming up; remind me to fill you in about that later." Brand dropped a hand onto his shoulder. He frowned when Jones startled at the contact. "So relax, killer. Everything's fine."

**00000**

**Narrator: but as it happened, everything was NOT fine... and I think next chapter is going to make that clear. I'll enjoy any and all reviews and be much encouraged as everyone in the story goes (no doubt) into a terrible meat grinder!**

**I hope you are well, and I also hope you have a lovely weekend. Solidarity as we all do our best to stay healthy and sane!**

**-Button**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen! I loved the anticipation; thank you so much for sharing your excitement in the reviews! Things are moving and everyone seems ready for it. :) Aaaaand we've got some stuff taking real shape now...**

**Romacarthur03, welcome! That you so much for the note - I really, really appreciate the encouragement and I think there are few higher compliments to a writer of a six-story series than "it never gets boring." Hearing that made me so happy all week! :-D I hope that holds true for this chapter as well!**

**Skyrider45, I always enjoy how you find the telling moments in the action (you often highlight the humor or subtle interactions in the middle of crazy plot moments), and I'm also keeping you in mind as the action ramps up. You are still the connoisseur who inspires me to up my game. :) I loved that Jughead got cheered on this week for bringing a gun to a... handcuff training, haha... and I also loved that you saw two breakthroughs there: the training one _and_ the willing support for Clark even when it wasn't something Jug really wanted to do. He's growing! And yeah, we'll see how much explosive action comes... The ramping up begins!**

**Living Lucid Dream, I love glimpses of Betty training and having a much more traditional experience. She and Agent Sarah bring some sanity this time, but are also pulled into the magnetic force of Brand's (and now Clark's!) enthusiasm. Brand's horrifying but infectious, I think. :) I love the pun - and thanks; I was really curious how that would read, since it is a big move for Jughead. Brand had an inkling, but I am not sure I did until they were mid-altercation. :) Yay for Archie growing too! I'm excited about his album, and I feel like an entire parallax novel would not be out of place for this series of events - Archie, Veronica, and Gunnar are having quite an adventure. Agent Williams may get an arc, too! She has intrigued me for a while and she's proud and loyal - but such an innately terrible fit with Brand and Jug that I agree with you that best intentions might not be enough to avert disaster. :-D I'm glad you liked the extremely _subtle_ cliffhanger. ;) I'll look forward to hearing what you think!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

The media consultant deemed them 'adorable.' It did not improve from there, either.

"Okay, so we've got a lot to work with here, and you both seem to have the basics down from your hard work in the spring." The media consultant, Ms. Turner, was literally the only person who was giving them much credit for that. "Now I just want you two to just talk. Tell me a little about what your working relationship is like."

Brand began thinking through possible responses, but they all looked up sharply when the door to the conference room they'd been using opened a crack.

"Perfect timing!" Ms. Turner jumped up to cross the room and open the door all the way. "Come on in. We're about to do some practice interview questions and it would be great to have an audience."

Sarah Quinn and Chloe Williams walked in and claimed seats at the far end of the room.

Jughead grinned at Brand, who quickly shook his head with a meaningful glare. "Stay on script."

"Oh, no, no. This part is entirely unscripted. We'll just see where you naturally head and then we'll course correct as needed," Turner said effusively. "Be completely natural. Hold on for just a second, though. Let me make sure the camera angle's still working for you; we'll watch this together afterward and make adjustments."

"Hmmm, let me see. Brand stocks my favorite foods at work, and I sometimes help make the coffee that keeps him going." Jones smiled up at Brand. "We're symbiotic that way."

"I don't think that word choice is gonna fly, kid." Brand raised an eyebrow. As usual, having an audience was not helping anything.

Jones' smile spread into a grin. "He's also not afraid to say what he thinks to me. I always know exactly where I stand. That's a really good quality in any relationship."

The kid's eyes flashed toward Agent Quinn, and Brand could see where this was going to go if he didn't head it off. He leaned in toward Jones and hissed quietly. "Do _not _start saying stuff to try and get me in good with Quinn."

Jones blinked.

"Uh, of course, that's not to say that-,"

"Cut!" Brand stood up and hauled Jones out of his seat by one shoulder. "I think we need a quick lap of the building to burn off some energy. Exercise is vital in our line of work, right, kid?"

Jones nodded quickly, and shot apologetic smiles to everyone as Brand hustled him out of the conference room.

"Take a few deep breaths, actually _think _about what I just said to you, and then we'll try this again." Brand kept hauling Jones through the building. "She already thinks I'm overly controlling when it comes to you-,"

"Oh, don't worry. Dragging me out of there probably changed her perception of you right around," Jones interrupted sarcastically.

"I'm pretty sure that was better than whatever was about to come out of your mouth." Brand fixed Jones with a stare. When the kid seemed to mentally review whatever it was he'd been about to say, he suddenly looked sheepish. "Ye-eah, that was my suspicion. So take a beat, get your head on straight, and then we'll go back in there."

"Okay. Sorry Brand." Jones' smile slowly started to return as they walked. "Do you think we should demonstrate any training techniques this time?"

"Do I get to handcuff and gag you?" Brand's tone was sarcastically cheerful.

"I _meant-_,"

"I was trying to say no, Jones. No, we should not." Brand ruffled the kid's hair. "Tell stories about cooking, studying, taking photos, Trigger, your dad, or anything we do in our free time. Steer clear of training, anything classified, and just for fun don't say anything that you think Agent Quinn would particularly like to hear."

Jones sighed longsufferingly. "All right, Brand. I'm just trying to be a good wingman for you."

"Please don't." Brand smirked. "Save that for Clark. I've already got a date with her on Friday, so you can really only do harm at this point. And keep in mind that we're being filmed; that means there's a permanent record of anything we say or do."

"Yeah. Good point." Jones finally seemed to get it. Fantastic. "So... I should probably talk to you right now about this book I really want-,"

"I don't know why I try reasoning with you, Jones." Brand rubbed the back of his neck. "You're a gremlin."

"Who is _very _willing to be bought off." The kid smiled up beatifically.

"Would you settle for a fancy dinner? Maybe something like... steak and lobster?" Brand was suddenly inspired. "I might even be persuaded to make a stop at a bakery if you do particularly well in there."

"Seriously?" Jones was shocked. "After everything you always say about not negotiating with terrorists?"

"I'm considering a new policy of choosing my battles," Brand replied. "What do you say?"

"Uh, yeah. I will be a paragon of virtue." Jones was grinning. "What bakery?"

"Oh, just you wait and see. Ever had derby pie?" Brand smiled back at him.

"Nope. Sounds weird."

"It's great. Just the kind of sugary mess you'll love." Brand tousled his hair a second time. "But remember, one wrong step and we're heading straight home after work."

"I've got this, Brand. Just make sure you have your credit card ready for the good steaks. And you have to spring for enough for Dad and Clark, too, because I'm not sharing. We don't get it very often, but Dad loves lobster; it might even make him less mad at you about the training." Jones was still grinning, though it had taken on an impish quality.

"My credit card will be ready. And that's good thinking about your dad; let's maybe let him believe that I brought it home for him." Brand hid his own smile.

"See? I'm not a bad wingman at all." Jones began leading the way back to the conference room. "Even though you are a _terrible _liar, Brand."

Brand's eyebrows shot up, but the kid just gave him a knowing smirk and then pushed open the door to the conference room.

Man, Jones was really starting to catch on to his methods. Brand wasn't even sure what had tipped him off this time. He hid another smile and then followed the kid back into the conference room.

**00000**

"Ribeyes?" FP had just gotten home from work and was heading toward his room to shower when the steaks caught his eye. "That's apology-level food, Brandon. I didn't know you were capable."

"There's lobster, too." Brand quirked an eyebrow at FP when the older man did a double take. "You were a good sport yesterday, all things considered. I don't mind being a good tenant from time to time."

"What's that from the bakery?" FP was in the refrigerator now, investigating what else might be on the docket.

"You'll see." Brand nudged the fridge closed. "Go shower. Food in twenty."

"Where are Jug and Clark?" FP seemed entirely disarmed by the obvious peace offering, so Brand was going to have to give Williams that much: she knew apology food.

"They're picking out handguns on Clark's laptop."

"They're _what_?"

And just like that, they were back to DEFCON 1.

"For Clark! Not for Jones." Okay; Brand obviously had a little further to go before FP would be back to normal. "His buddies at work thought he could use a sidearm after this weekend. They all kicked in for it, and I'm helping him choose something decent."

"Huh." FP's eyes were still narrowed, but he contented himself with opening the refrigerator a second time and this time peeking into the bakery box. "All right, then."

"Yeah, I thought you'd like that. It came highly recommended." Brand smirked. "Now go shower."

**00000**

After dinner, Brand made a point of explaining his plan to Clark so that he wouldn't startle him in the middle of the night. The replacement backpack in hand, he wanted to make the switch after Jones had gone to bed and then have a conversation with the kid before school in the morning.

Clark was amused and intrigued by the whole plan; he offered to help, and did a quick bed check to make sure that Jones had actually fallen asleep before they retrieved his backpack.

"Just move the books over to the new bag. Notebooks too. Jones can move pens and pencils and whatnot in the morning. It's meant to be a visual more than anything." Brand was glad that he'd included Clark in this. The intern was looking a lot more alive after a day back at the RA, and he'd been deeply touched by the card and gift, but he was almost gleeful about the surprise for Jones.

"It's symbolic, sure. I like the new bag. You have good taste," Clark said as he adjusted the straps so that they were in full backpack configuration. "Jones is going to be thrilled."

"I hope so." Brand felt pretty good about it, though. They quietly sneaked it back into Jones' room and left it right where his backpack had been.

The next morning they exchanged conspiratorial glances when Jones came out to breakfast like a zombie, without comment.

FP made coffee and talked Jughead through the day's plan - which apparently included Tim and Roger coming over, and a delayed dinnertime - and when FP left the kitchen to finish getting ready for work, Jones began texting while making slow progress on his second bowl of cereal.

Eventually Brand figured he'd better nudge the kid, or they wouldn't have time for a conversation - not to mention moving those pens and pencils - before it was time for Jones to head to school.

"Hey, go get your backpack, kid."

"In a minute, Brand." Jones had finished his cereal and was cutting a piece of cinnamon raisin bread off of the loaf that Brand had made a few days before. "I want to make some toast and this is really hard to cut thin enough."

"I got it. Go get your bag."

Jones gave him a confused look, but seemed happy enough to hand over the task of cutting a toaster-width slice of bread.

Brand quickly realized why, when the bread refused to cooperate.

And then there was an incoherent exclamation from Jones' room and the sound of things being roughly moved - or maybe even thrown. Clark leapt up from his chair before stopping and looking to Brand for direction.

"Stay here, Clark." Brand motioned to the intern. "I'll go talk to him."

FP came out of his room and gave Brand a questioning look.

"Backpack." Brand figured that said everything.

"Oh. That's all you, Brandon." FP raised his hands as if to distance himself from the dramatics and went back to getting ready for work.

Brand knocked on Jones' door, figuring he'd better not compound the issue by walking in on his fit. Or search. Whatever was going on in that room.

The door whipped open.

"Did you steal my backpack?" Jones was definitely awake now.

"I got you a new one. It was meant to be a gift. Can we talk for a minute?" Brand was beginning to see why FP had not tried to get the backpack away from the kid sooner.

"Where is it? You didn't throw it away, did you? I need my stuff from it, and you had no right to-,"

"I have it. Breathe. Your pencils are fine, and I-,"

"Where is it? Give it to me right now." Jones was spitting mad.

"It's in my room-," Brand raised his eyebrows when Jones shoved past him and went straight into his bedroom. "Look, it's fine. It's right there in the corner, but don't you think we should talk about why you're having this sort of reaction to-,"

"It's _mine_, Brand. You can't take my stuff. That's not okay." Jones was gripping the backpack and feeling the pockets carefully now. His expression relaxed slightly. "Just… don't do it again."

And Brand was suddenly suspicious. "You take up drug dealing on me, Jones?"

"What? No. Why would you even say that?" Jones shoved past Brand a second time, heading back to his room.

"Because you weren't actually upset about your bag. Or your pencils. What's in that backpack?" Brand followed Jones across the hall.

"My stuff, Brand."

"What stuff? This is not a normal reaction, and you can't tell me this was about the backpack. That is not what I just saw." Brand folded his arms when the bedroom door slammed in his face. FP came through the hallway then, bumping hard against Brand's shoulder as he walked past.

Brand rolled his eyes. "Go to work, FP."

"Figure this out," FP hissed, gesturing to Jones' room. "I don't think he's hiding anything. He really is protective of the few possessions he brought back from Toronto, Brandon."

"Uh-uh. You didn't see what he just did. Trust me; this is something else."

"Just fix this. Jughead's exhausted and he's under a lot of pressure from the RA, so cut him some slack. You also disrupted his morning routine, and you know that never ends well." FP gave him a deeply frustrated look. "You know what? I don't have time for this. Call me if you two break anything or wind up in the ER."

"Go. Tell Clark to go too. I'll find a way to get myself to the RA once I've talked Jones down."

"All right." FP shook his head, only partly appeased, and continued toward the kitchen.

Brand thought it over for a few moments and then went into his own room. He sat on his bed and checked the time on his phone. He'd give Jones a few minutes to calm down while the house emptied, and then they'd just see what this was all about.

**00000**

Jughead was not convinced that his heart was ever going to stop pounding. He was very close to a panic attack, and he wasn't sure that he even had it in him to wait for the front door to close.

Finally he heard his dad leave, and call his goodbye to Clark. Then, as soon as the front door opened and closed a second time, Jughead pulled the burner phone out of his backpack and powered it up.

There was a message. Jughead retrieved it with shaking hands, and found himself listening while sitting on the floor without any memory of how he'd gotten there.

"Jones, our conversations have been somewhat less productive than I'd hoped. I trust you'll recall our discussion about fishing and cutting bait. Let's leave it that I am officially unconvinced of your merit at this time - after the events of this weekend - and that is not something that I had anticipated at this stage. You won't be hearing from me again through this means, but you may be assured that I'll make the best decision for my interests. _All _of my interests."

Jughead wondered if he was about to pass out. He was vaguely aware that he should be controlling his breathing, but that would necessitate actually being able to concentrate on it.

"Kid?" Brand was suddenly standing over him, but that didn't make sense. Maybe he was hallucinating as well as hyperventilating. "Hey, kid, I didn't think you actually had drugs. Did you take something? Jones, you need to slow down. Hey, come on - breathe with me."

Jughead felt Brand - or his hallucination of Brand - crouch down and then sit on the floor behind him and pull his back against his chest. Brand wrapped his arms around Jughead and began breathing in an exaggerated manner. "Come on, Jones. Slow it down with me. Please don't do this or I'll have to take you to the ER and your dad will never let me live it down. I'm sorry that I - whatever I did - I'm not sure, but I'm sorry. Stay with me, kid. At least slow down enough that you can tell me what's wrong."

It was hard to reconcile how angry he'd been just minutes earlier with how desperately Jughead now wanted Brand to be real, to be right here, and to offer protection from what Jughead was pretty sure was about to turn into a death warrant for him and for everyone he cared about.

And, with that last panic-inspiring thought tightening his chest still further, Jughead felt his consciousness recede and his body fold forward.

**00000**

Brand really, really didn't want to call FP from the ER.

"Kid, come on. You're breathing. You're okay, right?" Brand hoisted Jones' limp form up onto his bed. There was a small disposable phone on the floor, and Brand eyed it the way he might a venomous snake. "I'm going to kill whoever did this to you, and then maybe I'll kill you too for pulling this on me."

Jones was pale, but he already seemed to be recovering now that his circulation didn't have to work against gravity.

"Come on, kid. Wake up. You ate like a horse this morning, so I know you can make it. Just breathe." Brand felt for a fever and, once he'd confirmed that Jones didn't have an obviously raised temperature, his eyes fell once again to the phone on the floor. Restless, he snatched it up and hit a few buttons to play the stored messages.

Brand's mouth fell open when he recognized the voice. And then his jaw felt like it might unhinge as it dropped further and further in shock while he listened to the messages that Jones had been receiving over the past three weeks.

And suddenly he wasn't so sure that he wanted Jones to wake up. It might be easier to give him something to keep him under for a few hours, while Brand figured out what needed to be done.

Except they'd moved past that kind of take-charge relationship. Jones had learned too much, been through too much, accomplished too much - and that genie was never going back into the bottle.

All of which was not to say that the kid had actually had time to grow up.

"Oh, Jones. You never stood a chance," Brand breathed the words as he smoothed the kid's hair back from his forehead. "You were set up. But I'm not going to let you go down for this. This is not how it's going to end for you."

Jones turned his head to one side and began showing signs of waking.

Brand took a deep breath. This was going to be bad. But there was probably no way forward other than going straight through.

"Hey kid, that's right - wake up. We need to talk."

**00000**

"You set up a dead drop with Rose."

"It's a burner phone, not a-,"

"Jones, you set up direct contact with Dominic Rose."

"Yes."

"And then you deliberately disobeyed one of his orders."

"I… guess I did. Yes."

"I thought you _liked _living here. I thought things were great with Betty, your friends, your dad. You had a life here, Jones. What possessed you to do this?"

Brand was sitting on the bed next to the kid, still trying to wrap his head around what had transpired between his godson and Rose.

"I - I didn't think I had a choice, Brand."

Brand tried to ignore the fact that Jones was looking up at him with a pleading, trusting expression that clearly indicated that he was waiting for Brand to finish punishing him and to then step in - protect him - and somehow make this all go away.

And now Brand had to rip off the band-aid and see that expression vanish, never to return. He felt sick.

"Go pack your things. I hope you said goodbye to your father this morning. He'll know you're okay - he'll assume you're with me -, but that's that." Brand forced himself to meet Jones' widening, horror-stricken eyes as he elaborated, so that there would be no misunderstanding.

"We're out of here, and I'm probably going to need to put you to sleep once we're in the car. Pack a pillow and that weighted blanket so that I can regulate your body temperature. Get a jar of peanut butter and some bread, too, because this is going to be a long trip."

Brand ran a hand through his hair and began thinking aloud. "We'll need another vehicle pronto, and this time we're buzzing your hair off; I sincerely hope that FP knows better than to come looking for us, but we're not going to take chances with anyone else recognizing you. I'll buzz mine off too. I don't know that we can claim to be father and son a second time, but I'll think about it. It simplified a lot last time."

Jughead covered his face with his hands, shaking his head weakly against Brand's words. "No. Please."

"Get a move on. Don't think right now, and don't cry right now. You'll have plenty of time for all of that later, when we're no longer endangering everyone we know."

Brand stood up, and it felt like a physical wrenching sensation when he pulled his thoughts away from Sarah Quinn in order to focus solely on his godson. That mental discipline was going to be important, though, right up until they were somewhere safe enough that they could both break down and begin to process all that they'd lost.

"That's all I get?" Jones' voice was strangled. "Six months?"

"Sometimes that's all we get, kid. At least they were good. Your dad was sober, your girlfriend said she loves you, and you even got a vacation with your friends. That's more than some people ever get. Come on, now; move."

"I-I can't leave Dad. I just got him back."

"You can't stay here until he's murdered in cold blood, either. You know that, and you also know that there's no way that Donn and the attacks are unrelated to what's been going on between you and Rose. And based on that last message, it's about to get a whole lot worse, both for you and anyone who's near you."

Brand softened his tone, thinking quickly through an array of distasteful options for the least disturbing one that he could come up with on short notice: "I don't want to put FP in the trunk and chain him to a pipe in our basement. But I will if you make me, so why don't you give me a clue right now how this is going to go, and I'll call him to come home if those are your terms."

"We were _home_, Brand."

"We were on borrowed time. We just didn't know it - or want to face it. You wanted so badly to be a teenager that you were in denial about the fact that you were a hostage to Rose's whims. I didn't want to admit it either, but I'm nothing more than a dirty fed."

Brand wished it didn't hurt so much to say that out loud. Somewhere along the way he'd come to love being an FBI liaison, and he'd even managed to convince himself that it was reality, though he knew that FP - just for instance - had never bought it for a second.

Brand's voice was harsher when he continued. "We have no future here, Jones. We never did. And we came unconscionably close to taking everyone we care about down with us. It was selfish and it was stupid, and we have to leave."

Jughead's eyes burned - and then his eyesight blurred.

"Look, kid, you have no choice in the matter so don't start Hamleting on me. I'm going to make it real simple: I'm not letting you die over this." Brand's voice was getting husky in spite of his best efforts not to react to Jughead's shock and grief. He sat back down next to his godson. "Although… I guess there is one other option. But it's not a sure bet, and you know how I feel about gambling when it's not a sure bet."

"Don't. You can't kill Rose."

"Huh. You're getting the hang of this. Impressive. Why not?"

"I can't lose you too, Brand." Jughead made a sound that was halfway between a hiccup and a sob.

"You'd only have a shot at being safe if we go that route, so it's not my first choice, but I'd give it better than fifty-fifty odds. You're right, though: I won't be back if I do that, no matter how it plays out. And if it didn't work, you'd need to hit the road on your own to protect everyone here, and I can't see that ending well. We'll be better off together."

"No. Maybe… I think that there has to be another way to do this."

"Oh, yeah? How do you figure?"

"We can _tell _everyone. We could just… get _help_, Brand."

"There aren't enough guard dogs in the world-,"

"We could bust Rose."

Brand froze.

"What?" Jughead wiped his eyes and looked around fearfully. "Did you hear something?"

"Yeah. I heard the first idea that might actually give us a shot at the whole pie." Brand was silent for a few moments, but his emphatically stoic expression fell away and he was suddenly - guardedly - energized. "I'd need to get Wilson in a SCIF, though, and don't you lose sight of those fifty-fifty odds because this wouldn't be much of an improvement."

Brand took a deep breath and locked eyes with Jones. "I'm going to ask you to make the most adult decision of your life, so think very carefully before you answer. How willing are you to risk getting killed for a fighting chance at keeping your life here, kid?"

"I don't want to go back to Toronto, Brand. I'd stake my life to stay here - with you and Dad and everybody." Instead of taking time to think, Jones was blurting out the words as if he thought Brand might take back the question if he didn't respond quickly enough. He searched Brand's expression, and something seemed to scare him; he was suddenly begging: "I'll do whatever I have to; I'm ready. I promise, Brand, I'll do anything you tell me to do and I'll never keep another secret from you."

When Brand hesitated, Jones grabbed his forearms and became even more frantic. "You can have my college fund. And my car. I'll give Trigger away. I'll _make _Dad let you buy the house down the street, and I'll, uh, cook and do your dishes and clean your bathrooms. Anything. Just please, _please _help me stay in Riverdale."

Brand's stomach twisted painfully, and when he pulled Jones against himself in a crushing, bracing hug, it was in part to hide his own expression from the kid. Jones instinctively wrapped his arms around Brand in response, even though he was practically vibrating with confusion and desperation.

"That's a funny way of putting it, kid, since Toronto's probably our next stop if we try this. And I'm not after your stuff - or even an indentured servant, tempting as that offer is. We've got an awful lot to lose, but that also means we both have a lot to gain if we pull this off."

Brand hesitated again, realizing as he spoke that this was probably a little too much of what he wanted to hear. He could not be certain of his own objectivity, and he needed to make absolutely sure that Jones understood exactly what it was that they were discussing.

"But look, this choice is not between the life we had in Toronto or staying here. I'm talking about pulling up stakes and making a real life with you somewhere that you'll be safe. We wouldn't be here, but we wouldn't be criminals either - beyond whatever I had to do to hide our identities. You can bank on that; if nothing else, Rose would find us if I ever tried to go back into business. I'd get you into college and we'd do this the right way. I'd take care of you. And I can't promise that I'll be able to protect you anywhere near that effectively if we try to bust Rose."

Brand felt Jones already shaking his head and he stilled the motion by placing a hand on the back of the kid's skull. "Hey. I'm serious. I need you to know that if we go after Rose, I cannot guarantee that you'd be safe."

"I _know _you can't protect me from every possibility. You never could." Jones sniffled, and then the begging tone returned in full force. "You always try, though. So that's what we'll do, right? We'll just… try. Please, Brand, we have to try."

Brand looked down at the kid, and there it was: the pleading, trusting expression that he'd thought would be gone forever once they began this conversation. He blinked back painful tears of relief, hating himself for it as he realized for the first time how intensely he craved Jones' blind faith in him.

"No final answers yet. You need to think about this, and I want you to change your mind if you decide that you're scared. Because that would be the sane response. This is a gamble, and let's be clear: it's the big one. There's no taking it back if we go full guns. On the other hand, if we disappear we can always regroup and try to come home later on."

"I don't need to think about it. You said Toronto. Should I still pack? I'm not going to change my mind, Brand." Jones swiped at his cheek even as he lowered his chin stubbornly.

"We'll see." Brand was increasingly certain that this was going to be their decision, but it still felt much too conveniently like the right thing for him, and not necessarily the right call for a seventeen-year-old who could far more easily start his life fresh.

As long as he was alive to do so.

Then again, the kid had come a long way. He understood what Brand was asking, at least in broad strokes, and he had earned the right to have a say in what they did next.

"Pack for your father, too." Brand sighed when Jones choked on a sob of relief and clung to him even more tightly. This had better turn out to be the right call, because it wasn't looking like Brand would be given any opportunity to take it back. "He might not even have to ride in the trunk if this works. We'll also have to find somewhere to stash Clark for the duration, or else he'll be a sitting duck."

"Thank you, Brand. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It's going to work. I know it's going to work."

"From your mouth to God's ears." Brand tousled his godson's hair ruefully. "I'm going to start by making a phone call, and if everything goes well I'll be having a few meetings today. Jones, I want you to keep thinking it over; it's not too late to change your mind. If this is really what you want, we'll most likely be leaving the country tonight. Find your passport, and your dad's too if you know where it is."

Jones' eyes were wet with tears that were visibly waiting to be shed, but Brand was reassured by his flushed cheeks that he was not likely to pass out a second time. The kid nodded and, after one last tightening of his hug and a deep fortifying breath, he let go of Brand and sprang into action.

In moments the kid was retrieving a large suitcase from the attic and simultaneously tugging on a duffel bag that seemed to have its straps caught on something.

"Take it easy; we have some time. I don't want to find you facedown on the floor because you worked yourself up again. And don't forget to pack for that dog of yours," Brand directed as he likewise stood and moved toward his own room. "He can't stay here alone, and we may need all the help we can get."

**00000**

**We are leaving Kansas, Toto (I mean, Trigger)! And all of the steps are taking vague, foggy shape in a specific direction now. I can't wait to find out what FP thinks of all this, as well as hearing your reactions. Thank you in advance for any and all notes as I work on chapter fifteen! :-D **

**Okay, enough from me... have a wonderful weekend, and I hope you are having an amazing start to May!**

**-Button**


	15. Chapter 15

**Woo-hoo, chapter fifteen! I've been very wheel-spinny this week, but as always the story is riiiight where I left it, in such a nice way. :)**

**Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! They were incredibly encouraging and definitely got the wheels spinning more productively...**

**Vorlesebuch, it is great to hear that you're still reading and enjoying. :-D I hope you enjoy this chapter too, as we start seeing the threads entwine!**

**Skyrider45, I hadn't thought much about it being a 'last meal,' and your comment made me so sad for Jug and Brand. I've got strong sympathy pangs for them. And yeah, literally everyone is in danger... because I can't help myself... :-D I have also thought a bit this week about your comment regarding what Jughead might have done if he were still hiding the contact with Rose. I think that would be quite the story too! (note to self: do not write a choose your own adventure version of story that is 18 times as long as original plot...) And yay for Toronto! I am not sure how much truth is going to how many people, but I agree with you that they've got some resources and should be able to use them. We shall see! Also, you are more than welcome; I think it's very true about your insights, and I'll enjoy hearing your thoughts about this chapter!**

**Living Lucid Dream, oh man, killing Brand? It's not off the table (I mean, didn't FP foreshadow that in YCHT after they caught Jug sneaking out of the house to find Trigger?), but I would cry too. (Jug is more likely safe than Brand, but never say never...?) I loved that you took comfort in Trig's inclusion - he will no doubt save the day in some fashion. He's been there, just waiting to shine again when we least expect it... :) I was glad the backpack swap made sense, too. I've been laying groundwork for it and I wasn't sure if anyone was seeing a potential collision course, but once they were switching them out at night I'm glad it very clearly signaled where things were headed. Sorry about the gut punches, too! I was considering how far they should get down the 'we need to disappear again' track before they considered other options, and... well... yeah. No excuses; I wanted to play some of that out and see what they would do/say/think. And now... here they go!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Betty caught up with Archie and Gunnar in the hallway. "Did Jughead come to school today?"

"I don't know." Archie gave a half shrug. "I haven't seen him, but I don't always see him before lunch."

"Is skipping class all that weird for him?" Gunnar asked, gesturing defensively to indicate that it was a sincere question when both Betty and Archie gave him looks. "The Serpents do tend to-,"

"He's not a Serpent, man," Archie cut him off. "Jughead works really hard to be in class and keep his grades up, especially since he missed a lot of school last year. Maybe he's sick, or maybe his car broke down or something. I can text him."

"I already did. I just haven't heard back yet and so I thought I'd ask you," Betty said. "Let me know if you hear anything?"

"Yeah. Same." Archie nodded and Betty moved away in the hall.

"Hey. Sorry about that, Archie," Gunnar said once Betty had left. "I know that you're best friends with Jughead and that you work with FP. I've also gotten the memo - in triplicate - about things being very different with them since last year. It probably seems like I'm looking for them to screw up-,"

"Yeah. It kind of does seem like that." Archie's tone was not harsh, but he was more than ready to have this conversation now that Gunnar was bringing it up.

"I'm not. Honestly, I'm not. But the truth is, things are not normal in that household. For that matter, having meetings in the hallway when Jughead's an hour late to school is not normal." Gunnar thought for a moment. "I guess I'm just saying that I'm calling this a zebra because I'm actually seeing some stripes. If you already know this, then you get it, and I'll shut up about it. But it's not normal, and typically I'm someone who points that sort of thing out to my friends."

"Well, you don't have to." Archie sighed. "It is weird, but by now it's normal-weird. Things are better than they were, but we're all on something of a hair trigger. Which is - dare I say it - _normal _after everything that happened."

"You ever going to fill me in on what we're singing about? I mean... seriously fill me in?"

"Alice never…?"

"Oh, hell no." Gunnar was appalled. "We are clean slating it right now. Fun new experiences, no pressure - and absolutely no Jughead-related, parental, or Southside drama. It's a break for us both; it's been kind of amazing."

Gunnar's expression had softened into a pleased smile as he talked about Alice. "It does leave me out of things. That's cool, and it's a relief most of the time. But then something like this happens, or everyone gets into some light lunchtime conversation about the FBI attacking Jughead and FP in their own home, and I kind of wonder whether you all took the red pill or I did."

Archie grimaced. "Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry. I probably should have filled you in on some of this ages ago. It's just, it's mostly Jughead's story, and I've tried for ages to stay out of it and not spill details or whatever when the press was out for his blood. But I can catch you up on the basics."

"That would help. Once I've gotten a better read on the zebras, it probably won't be so weird."

"Um, it will probably still be weird." Archie smiled. "But yeah, at least you'll understand where we're coming from a whole lot better when we have these 'red pill' conversations."

"Cool."

"And you should talk to Jughead sometime, too. I'm still not convinced you two couldn't be friends."

"Don't push it. I'm _enjoying _staying out of things." Gunnar and Archie had discussed this more than once. "But sure; who knows? Maybe we could start talking."

"That's all I'm saying."

"Unless of course he's late to school because the FBI dropped him in the Canadian wilderness to see if he could survive for six months with only his wits and a hatchet."

Archie laughed heartily. "Do _not_ give Brand any ideas, Gunnar."

**00000**

Twenty minutes later, Brand had completed the initial round of calls as satisfactorily as he was going to be able to manage at this point. He rejoined Jughead to help him haul the full suitcase and duffel bag to the car. The kid had both of his backpacks loaded down as well.

"We can get more dog food later, so one bag of that should be fine for now. You should find Trigger's car harness," Brand said as he lifted the suitcase and shouldered his own duffel bag. "Bring extra bedding too, in case one or more of us is on the floor."

"Yeah, I know - if the townhouse isn't an option, we might have to make do. And I've already got both of Trigger's harnesses, just in case-," Jughead was holding up the harnesses to show Brand, but he stopped short when he opened the front door.

FP was striding up their walkway, toward the door. He looked violently angry.

"Uh, hi, FP-," Brand's mind raced as he tried to figure out what had brought the man home.

And then a fist connected with his abdomen.

"Dad!" Jughead was dropping everything and leaping onto his father, but not apparently to restrain him so much as hug him. "Dad, you're home. You're here. Everything is all- I mean, I was- well, Brand and I were-,"

And Jones was tearing up again, apparently unable to get enough words out at the moment for any sort of explanation, and FP was sheltering him in his arms and placing his own body between the kid and Brand, which suggested that somehow-

"Do you have any idea what Clark is doing right now?" FP growled at Brand. "Because I think he's in possession of the keys to Jughead's car - to keep you two from leaving -, and he's _terrified _that you're going to either hurt or abduct Jughead. He said something about the trunk."

Oh. Oh, no.

"He has bad information. Plans changed, FP-,"

"You bet your worthless life they did." FP pulled Jones tighter to himself, frowning at his son's emotional state. "Jughead, you're safe. I'm here now, and you're not going anywhere with this lunatic."

"Come on, hear me out-,"

FP gave him a scathing look. "Hear what out? I am never leaving you alone with my son again."

"Hold on; not this again. First of all, this is _exactly _what we discussed me doing if a problem like this came up, back when-,"

"Do you mean the plan in case I was _dead_?" FP's eyes went wide with incredulity, and now Jones was giving Brand a scared look as well, so Brand halted and tried a different tack.

"FP, I'm going to the FBI. Look in the suitcase; you're packed and ready to go with us if we get the green light. You can see for yourself. We're not running."

"That is correct. You are sitting down and we're having a conversation before you do a blessed thing," FP's tone was dangerously level all of a sudden. "And you have lost your mind if you think I'm letting Jughead get into a car with you. Jug, have you taken anything - any drugs? Did he give you something to put you under, or to make it harder for you to run away?"

Jughead quickly shook his head and sniffled loudly before clearing his throat. "I'm fine, Dad. Brand's not abducting me. We really are going to the FBI."

"You have no way of knowing that for sure. Once he had you in the car, anything could have happened." FP shook his head sadly.

Jughead looked up at him sharply - and then looked over at Brand with a worried expression. "No, Dad. This is all my fault; Brand was only-,"

"Perfect. You've got him convinced that whatever you're pulling is his fault. Of _course _you do." Then FP noticed something else, and his expression became even more upset. "Did he tell you to bring the _dog harnesses_, Jughead? You are a dead man, Davies."

"_I wasn't kidnapping him_. And a conversation is fine," Brand interjected. "That would be good, even. We have to find Clark first, though, because he's not a part of all this and I'd like to keep it that way."

"I'll text him." FP's left arm tightened around Jughead as he released his right arm from his son's shoulders and pulled out his phone.

Moments later Clark appeared in the living room. He skirted his way carefully toward FP and Jughead while avoiding eye contact with Brand.

"Clark? Hey, buddy, you did the right thing." Brand was pretty sure that this was the end of their friendship, but he could see in a glance that the intern felt horribly conflicted. "You didn't hear everything, or maybe you didn't hear correctly, but you were right to act quickly and protect Jones."

"I-I called the RA and said I'd be in late. So that I could give you a ride." Clark still wasn't meeting Brand's eyes, and he seemed not to know what else to say.

"Thank you, Clark," FP said, the words coming out more as a rebuke of Brand than gratitude toward the intern. "The three of us need to talk privately, but can you go to Agent Quinn's office and tell her we need her? If we're not here when you get back, call the cops and have Quinn call the FBI to report that Jughead and I are missing and that our lives are in danger."

Clark nodded firmly, his expression somewhere between terrified and grimly determined.

Brand made a noise of protest in his throat.

"You _just _said that you were going to the FBI, Brandon."

"Yeah, but I meant SAC Wilson, not Agent Quinn."

Everyone turned to stare at Brand.

"We're going to need a whole lot of authorization, and probably some serious resources as well, in order to do what I have in mind."

FP was giving him the look that had no doubt made him Serpent King.

"Please, Dad. You always say that Brand panics first and thinks later. I think that Clark just heard the first part-,"

That lovely contribution did not help anything. Brand winced when both FP and Clark visibly realized that Jones was confirming that their worst fears had been founded - even if what Jones _intended _was to say that those fears were now defunct.

"Look, I'm handing the kid my service weapon. Okay? Truce." Brand raised his hands placatingly.

"You're only doing that because you know he won't shoot you," FP retorted, though he did not interfere when Brand pressed the gun into Jones' hand.

"Actually, I thought you might want possession of your shotgun for this conversation, FP."

"Well. You might be right about that. Go get SAC Wilson, Clark."

"Uh, tell her that you're not sure what's going on, but that I left her a phone message this morning. We'll come to the field office and talk to her directly," Brand corrected. "Have her call FP to arrange a meeting for any time that she's free today. We'll all come in together."

"Fine." FP glared, but seemed to realize that was the only reasonable arrangement.

"I'll have my cell phone with me." Clark gave everyone one last pained look, passed what looked like the kid's car keys to FP, and then hurried toward his car.

FP didn't loosen his grip on Jughead as he moved toward his room, presumably to retrieve the shotgun. When Jughead had to scramble awkwardly to keep up and nearly fell over his own feet, FP did not slow down.

"Don't yank him like that-," Brand shut up when FP gave him an even scarier look than before. "Never mind. He's your son; you do what you want. I'll just be right here, waiting for more guns to be pointed at me so that we can talk more comfortably."

"Way to stand up for me, Brand," Jughead objected, but he shrank back in his father's grip when the look was turned on him next. "Uh, sorry. I'm good with being dragged around."

"Good. Because I'm not letting go of you until your next birthday, or until you demonstrate that you have some common sense - whichever comes first," FP growled at him.

Jughead gave Brand a wide-eyed look.

Brand shook his head emphatically. "Do not look at me. That sounds entirely sane and not in any way unreasonable, kid."

"Nobody asked you." FP somehow made it up the stairs and disappeared into his room with Jughead.

Brand watched through the window as Clark drove away to talk to SAC Wilson, and then he sank down onto the couch to wait.

This was actually heartening, all things considered. Apparently he didn't need to worry about whether FP would be willing to take extreme action to deal with the situation.

Brand took care not to look in any way pleased when FP reappeared with the shotgun, though, with Jughead still skittering along in his death grip and trying not to drop Brand's service weapon - or aim it at anyone or anything.

"The safety's on, kid."

If FP's twitching reaction when Brand spoke was any indication, the older man was not a whole lot more relaxed with the shotgun in hand.

Nope; he'd keep this to himself. If FP caught any hint that Brand was happy about his violent response to a threat against Jones' safety and wellbeing, that would not enhance anyone's life.

FP sat down across from Brand, settling the shotgun onto his lap and pushing Jughead into a dining room chair right next to him.

"All right. Talk. What in God's name did Clark overhear, and why are our bags packed pending authorization from the SAC?"

Brand took a deep breath and, with a flick of his eyebrows at Jones, he began to explain.

"The kid decided to grow up in a hurry without telling anyone, and now we've got a situation. He's in a dead heat with you for which Jones is going to be murdered first, and I've got exactly one decent idea for _maybe _keeping the wolf pack together." Brand took a deep breath and gave the kid a weak smile.

"It was Jones' idea, actually. I was just going to do whatever I needed to in order to keep him alive - and that's probably what Clark overheard -, but the kid really wanted to stay here with you, FP. And with Betty and everyone, but you should know that you got honorable mention."

"If you talk in circles, so help me-,"

"I think I have to tell you everything. Everything, everything."

"That would be a start." FP was fingering the shotgun with one hand while he used the other to grip Jones's shoulder tightly enough that the kid was wincing.

"So, back in Toronto, we cut a deal to get out alive. Jones and I have been more or less - me more, and him less - on payroll with, uh, Dominic Rose."

FP's jaw dropped. "Why do you _insist _on lying to me, Brandon? I will shoot you right now if you don't tell me-,"

"That's the truth! I swear!" Brand looked over at Jones, as if the kid would have any clue why his father wasn't buying this.

"No. It's not."

"Look, maybe you need a few minutes to process, or maybe I should explain who Rose is-,"

"It can't be the truth because I _know _Dom, you idiot. Jug's been off limits since he was born."

Brand felt his expression shift more than once as his mind raced to translate FP's words into something that made sense. "_What_?"

"Technically it's the Serpents, but family members go without saying." FP must have tightened his grip still further, because Jones was starting to twist uncomfortably toward his father to ease the strain on his shoulder.

"Uh." Brand wondered how well FP could possibly know Rose if that was his line. "What do you mean, 'technically'?"

"It's a long story, but when local territory was up for grabs I got what I wanted and Dom didn't. It wasn't entirely amicable for a while, but we eventually hammered out an arrangement. So now he steers clear of the Serpents. You didn't wonder why literally none of them were hurt or killed in Montreal when the splinter faction started making moves in Rose's territory?"

"Wait... you knew that was Rose? I mean... never mind. That's classified." Brand felt like he was about to start stuttering. He took a moment to clear his head before continuing. "So, if all of that's true, then why doesn't the kid have a tattoo and a jacket if that's what would protect him under this… arrangement?"

"We've been over and over this, Brandon. I don't want Jughead involved with the Serpents." FP glowered. "And again, my _son _shouldn't _need _to be a Serpent to be off limits to-,"

"I'm going to tell you what happened in Toronto, and then you're going to tell me exactly what a loophole you could drive a truck through might mean for Rose if he thought he could get a foothold with you through your - astonishingly - non-Serpent-affiliated son. Okay?" Brand felt like he was speaking slowly, as if to a particularly stupid child, but at least FP seemed to be considering his words.

"Wait."

Of course Jones would interrupt right at this moment.

"Rose _knows _you, Dad? And he agreed to stay away from the Serpents?"

FP finally seemed to notice that he was hurting Jones, and he loosened his grip on the kid's shoulder. "Yes, Jughead. I'm guessing you never saw or met anyone, and you've been operating on Brandon's say-so this whole time?"

"_No_. I met Rose before Brand did. And he was interested in Riverdale. He asked me about Clifford Blossom but never explained how he knew who I was." Jones' eyes were huge. "Brand's right. Rose _is _using me, and maybe he has a lot of different plans, but I think one of them must be about Riverdale. Which could definitely include getting back at you and the Serpents if you beat him at something-,"

"Damn straight I did." FP's brow was furrowed with concentration. "You actually met him?"

"I, uh-," Jones shot Brand a look for permission to say more. Brand nodded wearily. "I delivered a car and a message to him for Jameson."

Brand leaned back on the couch and waited for FP to realize what that meant.

There was a long moment of hesitation before FP doubled over and began wheezing for air as if he'd abruptly contracted asthma.

"Yeah. Yeah, FP." Brand got up cautiously and walked over to the older man. FP leaned forward and grasped at his knees as he continued to fight for oxygen. "It was… all kinds of bad in Toronto. We ran out of options, or I never would have considered-,"

"Oh God." FP found his voice again. "You put my son in bed with Dominic Rose. You let Jameson feed him into a meat grinder, and the only way you could figure out to keep Jughead alive was by-,"

"Well, there was actually one more piece." Brand figured they were probably just going to have to bite the bullet. "Remember that whole 'secret agent capture' thing?"

FP raked a hand through his hair, clearly sensing that he wasn't going to like the rest of this story.

"I ran away from Brand, Dad. I got kidnapped by Jameson because I pulled a boner move." Jones didn't seem able to keep his mouth shut. "And Brand had to cut the deal with Rose to get me back alive."

FP had managed a few deep breaths, but at Jughead's words the wheezing came back in full force.

"That's how I, uh, got a job with the agency, and-," Brand stopped when FP began speaking again.

"This house. Jughead's college fund. That's why you flipped out over Alice's article; that literally almost got you both killed until we saved face with the press. Wait, Donn too? Is _that _why he shot Russell - and nobody so much as blinked?" FP looked up, and the wheezing was gone as abruptly as it had started.

"Ye-es, as a matter of fact that is the leading theory." Brand was still standing right in front of FP, and when the shotgun came up he raised his hands in a gesture of submission. "If I'd had any other option, I would have-,"

"And _you've _been walking on eggshells ever since." FP turned on his son. "You've been held hostage by Dom for the past six months, never knowing what might cause the roof to cave in on you. Or what might give Rose an excuse to send someone after me, or a group of thugs after Clark."

"That part's still not entirely clear," Brand interjected. "But yeah, it seems likely to me that Rose was brokering the attacks through a third party - or through Donn, who used a third party - while he maneuvered Jones into somehow breaking the agreement we made in Toronto."

"Jughead broke an agreement with Rose?" FP glared into the middle distance while he processed that information. "Okay. That makes sense; it sounds like something Dom would try, and if he's making threats then I can see why your first impulse would be to disappear." FP's tone was dark, but he was nodding. "If I needed an excuse to come after you and to break faith with the Serpents, I'd probably have leaned on Jug too."

Brand winced when Jones' expression twisted in response to hearing that theory for the first time. "Uh, yeah. Exactly. That breach would put Rose in the clear for anything that came next - which is important when you're managing a paranoid criminal empire -, including allowing you to be killed, FP. He laid groundwork with Donn for both you and Clark, but it sounds like you were the prize."

Brand was just spitballing, but he thought that made some sense.

One part didn't quite fit, though.

"I'm just not sure why he's been grooming me to take over for him if that's why he brokered the deal in the first place. Maybe that was all misdirection. Unless…" Brand's eyes widened as the penny dropped. "Maybe we were the package deal from hell. You know, kid, he _has _been trying to split us up since day one, even though I've threatened to walk every time. I thought he just wanted to harden me, and cut away my vulnerabilities. But we've been fighting about my personal oversight of you since the very beginning."

Jones was gaping in astonished dismay. Brand wondered if this was altogether too much information for him to handle right on the heels of everything else, but it was too late to shield him: they needed all cards on the table.

Brand had to assume it was all of a piece, and FP being a long-standing target meant that motives at the very least made sense. Nevertheless, he was painfully aware that he'd made a lot of faulty assumptions over the past few weeks due to a lack of information, and that clearly needed to end.

FP massaged his eyes. "He wants _you _to step in when he retires? Dom sees himself in the most perverse places."

"I don't disagree." Brand shrugged.

"And all of that's why you've been…" FP's face contorted miserably as he turned back to Jones. "Jug, I didn't know. We're going to fix this. I'm going to fix this."

Aaaaand Jones was crying again.

"You're okay, kid. This isn't your fault; it was a setup from start to finish and not one of us caught on to that until now." Brand tried to sound soothing and not impatient. As badly as this day was shaping up for him, it had to be infinitely more terrifying from where the kid was sitting. "Your father might actually be right that he can help us. It's too bad a tattoo and a jacket won't mean anything now, or we'd both just pledge the Serpents, huh? And hey, you were right; that means there _was _help we could-,"

"If Rose thinks he can do this - get away with this-," FP sputtered before he managed a full sentence. "What exactly are we up against, Brandon, and how does SAC Wilson fit into your so-called plan?"

Brand's eyebrows went up. This was going more quickly than he'd anticipated, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"_Brandon_," FP repeated impatiently. "How do we end this, once and for all? And what are the odds that SAC Wilson's on the take with Rose? She's been sniffing around you two."

Jones made a noise of surprised protest.

"No, that's the right question, kid. Your father understands things a whole lot better than you do, and Wilson is literally Donn's replacement." Brand sighed. "But if Wilson is on Rose's payroll, then we're screwed. For one thing, Clark's most likely already there and that means he's a hostage at best. I'm also not sure we can do any of what I'm considering without the FBI as backup. I think we have to play this one out and hope."

"All right. What are we playing out?" FP seemed satisfied that they had no options aside from trusting Wilson.

"I have this sort of crazy plan that means we have to lie and do some stuff - and also tell some truths to the FBI that I'd never intended to tell." Brand figured he'd better get that much said. "We'd go in undercover, burn every bridge with Rose, and hopefully burn him up with them. But it's an extremely high-risk strategy."

"Then Jughead needs to leave. He's out. You and I deal with this from now on." FP's hand moved from Jones' shoulder to the back of his neck, and it looked like he clamped down hard enough to leave a bruise if the kid's facial expression was any indication. "Fred Andrews will look after him. Or Sarah Quinn can take him in for a while. Clark can go with him too, and we'll get Keller and Tim to keep eyes on-,"

"Uh, actually... we need the kid for this. If you really want him out, that means we're back to Jones and me hitting the road and disappearing." Brand made a face to indicate that he shared FP's displeasure with that fact. He had to look away from Jones, whose expression suggested that he was not sure whether he was more terrified about being left behind or brought along on this ride.

And Brand could not even begin to think about what it would be like leaving Riverdale to assume new identities now, after the kid had been offered the possibility of an alternative and had this conversation with FP. "Not ideal, I know. But if he and I aren't going to disappear - again - then he has to be a full partner. Rose is using him as the lever, so we need to do the same thing. That's the only way I see this having any chance of working."

When FP's eyebrows went up and he shook his head emphatically, Brand figured they were at the beginning of the long argument that he'd anticipated. He sat back down on the couch.

"What's plan b, Brandon?" FP's expression was intensely focused. "You're not taking Jughead away from me again. And he's not going back into this mess in any capacity, let alone to be used as a _lever_."

"There is no plan b."

"Make one. Jughead's out."

"But Dad, I-,"

The hand must have clamped still harder, because Jones shut up and made an even more pained face.

"Look. Let's take it from the top, FP, and then you can tell me if you see any other way." Brand rubbed his hands over his thighs. He was sweating. "And for what it's worth, I hope that you do."

"I will. Don't you worry about that." FP's face set in a mask of determination. "This ends here."

Brand began to talk.

FP's dark expression did not change, though he started glancing over at Jones more frequently as Brand spoke. Eventually Brand realized why that was.

"Hey, are you okay, kid?"

Jones had begun visibly trembling, and at Brand's words his teeth began to chatter. "Yeah. I'm okay. You can keep explaining."

"Ohhh great; he's going into shock, FP. I think the adrenaline's wearing off." Brand sighed and stood up from the couch. He wanted to pat the kid's head or maybe try to still some of the shaking, but one look at FP made it clear that would be tantamount to suicide at this moment.

It was probably a testament to their hard work learning to pull together over the past six months that Brand didn't already have holes in him; he didn't need to push his luck.

"I'm sorry, killer. This isn't the way something like this should be done. Why don't I get you something to eat, and you can wrap up in a blanket and take over the couch. Let's have your dad sit with you while we keep discussing things." Brand turned to address FP again. "He had a panic attack and passed out earlier. I'm honestly surprised that he's holding up as well as he is."

"I'm fine. I'm not hungry. We should just make a plan now, before SAC Wilson calls," Jones insisted. His hands were quaking even harder, though, and he set Brand's service weapon down on the table behind him before jamming his hands under his legs - as if that was any less conspicuous.

"You passed out? You should definitely eat something." FP frowned and he was gentler this time when he dropped a hand on the back of Jones' neck.

"It's going to take longer than five minutes to make a plan. Let me find something that'll keep you from crashing. Do you think he could handle a Coke, FP?" Brand moved toward the kitchen, whistling for Trigger as he did so. When he heard a bark in response from behind the door to the basement, he released the dog into the living room. "Hey, monster, make like a service dog and calm your owner down."

Jones leaned forward to accept the dog's muzzle in his hands and then rubbed Trigger's ruff vigorously to burn off some of his nervous energy. Trigger nuzzled up into the crook of Jones' neck and huffed once before closing his eyes to enjoy the attention.

FP began rubbing the kid's back as well, making a deeply concerned face. "I'll split a can with him and we can see how he does. Get him something with protein in it too, Brandon." FP turned back to Jones. "I'm going to take care of this, Jug. It's all going to be okay; Brandon and I will fix this, and then it will all be over."

Jughead leaned into his father while he continued petting his dog. "You're not going to shoot Brand?"

"Not today, Jughead. We're going to do what we've been trying to work together on for months: eliminate the ongoing threat to your safety." FP accepted a can of Coke and a glass from Brand.

"_Months_?" Jughead didn't look up, but he sounded deeply concerned by that tidbit. "You weren't supposed to know anything, Dad. Brand could have gotten you killed by telling you stuff."

"I didn't tell your father anything. We've had an unspoken pact since the spring. Your dad's been backing me up without any information, kid, and you know how hard that had to be for him. He's made some big sacrifices to make sure you stayed safe." Brand figured it was time to acknowledge that things might be a mess, but that he and FP were officially back on the same side.

"Really?" Jughead looked from one to the other, suddenly confused. "Then why do you always fight?"

FP raised his eyebrows and looked over at Brand expectantly.

"Uh, wow, that's an interesting question. Maybe because I'm still me? The pact wasn't a lobotomy. It's probably the reason your father didn't run me out of Riverdale," Brand nodded toward FP when he grunted in agreement, "but it's also the reason we were forced into close quarters. Right up until things looked better - after Michigan - I didn't want to get too far away. Not until we had some idea that you were safe."

"And now we're actually going to make that happen. Finally." FP's voice was strong - but he wasn't looking at his son any longer.

Brand met FP's worried eyes behind Jones' back, and he figured it was more or less like looking into a mirror of his own expression.

This seemed to be yet another thing that they unexpectedly had in common: they were both in the questionable habit of making promises first, and figuring out how to deliver on them later.

**00000**

**Wow, this was very nearly a one-scene chapter, which was kind of cool (if a bit breathless!). I hope you enjoyed - everyone gets to snap into action now, but excavating some of these roots and seeing how tangled they've gotten required a bit of space. **

**I'll enjoy any and all notes immensely as the wolf pack hits the ground running together! :)**

**-Button**


	16. Chapter 16

**Happy mid-May! And wow, thank you so much for the enthusiasm over the last chapter. :) **

**Romacarthur03, that was so great to hear on all counts. I love that you anticipate the chapters (woo-hoo!), and as everything comes together through talking and planning it is so great to hear that it is still building in tension and anticipation. Thank you so much for the wonderful and encouraging compliments. :-D My week was made!**

**Shyrider45, first off yay for another chapter being in the works! I can be patient (I tell myself this regularly, hoping it will sink in), and I know it will be worth the wait. :) Also, yes - Matrix and Hatchet references (FTW!), and I liked your assessment that Gunnar was not far off. Poor Clark being in the middle, and I totally agree that FP deserved to gain some ground in that conversation. He and Brand have been a little off balance since Shifting Territories. I liked your phrase the "long, long game." Brand has stuff to answer for, and things definitely would have played out differently had FP's connection to Rose been known from the outset. I think there would have been some losses in that timeline (for Brand interpersonally, for FP with the FBI, and for Jug with some of what he's gained through Brand and the FBI and all), and they'd have had fewer resources to make a stand. But then, I'm invested in seeing it that way... I get frustrated with the Wizard of Oz effect (you could have clicked your heels AGES ago and this story would have been a lot shorter!), so I tend to see more where the plot had to play itself out ("it's working out for the best, in a twisted way!"). Readers might feel very differently... but we shall see! I'll look forward to hearing more of your thoughts. :)**

**Living Lucid Dream, all the flourishing bows this week! Thank you for a review that made me grin for DAYS. :-D Yeah, this has been brewing for ages, and I am SO relieved to hear that you see the clues being there and your reaction was not "Oh. Okay. That came out of nowhere." I've been enjoying having Gunnar and Sweet Pea take up very different spaces with Alice, but I do think that's unlikely to last. I definitely think that balance is possible, too, though Sweet Pea's been on one side (a bit overwhelmed) and Gunnar on the other (slightly out of the loop). Yay for FP getting to be papa bear again! Shifting Territories really messed with dynamics, and as much as Jug and FP needed to work through the Serpent-related issues, I think we've seen a sliiiightly more tentative FP since Jughead's attack at Riverdale High - and he might be done with that now. There's nothing like being needed in the driver's seat to inspire a return to forceful leadership! The armed nuke sounds about right, yep. I honestly thought this connection was going to break (at least to Brand) in Shifting Territories, and everyone juuuuuust barely avoided that at the end. I'll be interested in hearing what you think as things come together more and more!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"Your father and Brandon are having a strategy meeting with SAC Wilson?" Agent Sarah was sitting with Jughead and Clark in a comfortable room that held couches and a coffee maker.

FP had (mortifyingly) ordered her not to let Jughead out of her sight when he realized that this was one of her days working at the field office as she gradually transitioned from the RA. At first Jughead wondered if his dad understood that Agent Quinn definitely outranked him here - but then she obeyed immediately, and with no small amount of deference, so it seemed like maybe his dad was right after all.

It also made Jughead figure that he still had a long way to go before he fully understood workplace dynamics.

Brand had softened FP's command as much as he was able without offering explanations, but that had turned out to be unnecessary: Sarah had been quite willing to spend the time with Jughead and Clark.

"Yeah. I shouldn't talk about anything because so much is classified, but yeah."

"Special Agent Davies scared me to _death_." Clark leaned back heavily on the couch. He'd been incredibly relieved when Jughead had arrived at the field office with FP and Brand, and from what Jughead could see it looked like Clark had immediately assumed that indicated all was well and that he'd somehow misunderstood everything that he'd heard.

Jughead was fairly certain that he should not do anything to contradict that impression, though he was not clear on how Clark was squaring all of that in his mind.

Agent Sarah was a lot more relaxed, but that was probably because she knew none of the details at this point beyond the fact that Clark and FP had both been shocked by something confusing that had come up involving Brand and Jughead, and that SAC Wilson was now being consulted on how to proceed.

"I mean, I knew he had undercover skills, but that was… It was actually scary. He really seemed like he was going for it, you know?" Clark shook his head in amazement.

"You don't have to tell me." Jughead ducked his head and avoided Clark's gaze. "We worked together for quite a while, remember? And, uh, thanks for calling my dad. If something _had _been going down… I don't know. I guess thanks for having my back."

"I feel a little stupid, but I'd do it again. If there's one thing I'm learning, it's that it's sometimes preferable to be too cautious." Clark rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously before he became animated again: "And Davies was _terrifying_."

Agent Quinn slid over on the couch cushions to touch Jughead's shoulder. "Are you okay? Things were awfully intense between you two when you worked together in Toronto, and I can tell that whatever's going on has really shaken up your father. If you're having a lot of... _memories _come up now, or if you're just feeling overwhelmed, we can-,"

"I'm kind of tired is all." Jughead figured that excuse would cover for just about anything. "I didn't expect things to kick up so dramatically, and it's just... an exhausting thought."

"Want us to give you space?" Clark offered. "I honestly don't want to leave you alone, and your dad said you should be 'within arm's reach at all times,' but I don't think he meant that literally."

"Nah; Dad wants me supervised or whatever. Literally. Just, like, don't expect too much from me right now."

"Of course, Jughead." Agent Sarah rubbed his shoulder lightly. "Are you hungry? There are usually cookies around here somewhere."

"Sure." Jughead smiled faintly. "I could eat."

In a matter of moments they were opening a package of Oreos and a bag of soft-baked oatmeal cookies.

"If you and Special Agent Davies get sent on a mission, I hope I get to go too," Clark said as he pulled an oatmeal cookie apart and inspected a raisin. "Somehow the golden raisins always taste better in cookies."

"Really?" Jughead reached for one of the cookies. "I never noticed that. And I'd take you with me if I got sent somewhere. Except that would never happen, because nobody ever sends interns on missions."

"That is the truth." Agent Quinn looked from one to the other. "Neither one of you needs to worry about being 'sent' to do anything."

Jughead took a big bite of his cookie, in part to hide any tells that might betray his certainty that he was indeed about to be sent to Toronto - and that Clark would not be joining him, or even likely informed where he was headed.

"You're right." Jughead spoke around a mouthful of cookie. "The golden raisins are way better. I'll have to remember that."

"I'll pick some up this week and we can bake some cookies of our own. I bet Special Agent Davies knows a recipe." Clark smiled at Jughead.

"Sure. That sounds good." Jughead took another bite. He suddenly wished with all his heart that he _would _be around to bake with Clark.

This sucked.

But it could very easily have sucked a whole lot more, Jughead reminded himself with an involuntary shiver. His eyes went to the door that his dad had disappeared through with Brand.

At least, whatever came next, they'd face it together.

**00000**

"So. As it happens, I heard something," FP said as they took their seats around SAC Wilson's desk.

Aaditi Wilson's gaze flickered between FP and Brand; she was obviously disconcerted by the lead-in paired with the presence of both men. "Well, you'd better fill me in, then. Clark was less than coherent on the subject."

"Brandon and Jughead made a contact in Toronto. Dominic Rose. Jughead had no idea who he was, or his significance to the Southside case, and Brandon has been trying to develop the contact-,"

"Unwisely," Brandon interjected.

"_Unwisely_," FP agreed fervently, "and it's gotten out of hand. Davies needs to go undercover as a double agent and make the bust. Right now. Otherwise my son is going to be in the crosshairs, and the attempts on my life and Clark's are going to look like a Nerf war in comparison to whatever Rose is likely to try on Jug. We need to move on this right away, and I think that Davies and I need to go to Toronto tonight."

"While _I_ think that we need _you _to make decisions and formulate a game plan," Brandon countered.

"Don't play games with me and act as if you two didn't come in here with a fully-formed plan. I wasn't born yesterday." Wilson raised an eyebrow at them. "First of all, I know full well that you have a history with Rose, FP."

SAC Wilson gave FP a long-suffering look when he studiously did not react. "I'm not bluffing, Mr. Jones. Agent Russell documented that much meticulously. He had nothing tying Davies and Forsythe to Rose, but he suspected it - and the Toronto connection made it seem likely enough to me. That's what I was hoping to confirm if you ever got me a lead. However tenuous, it would have been information."

FP and Brandon exchanged glances. This was not even close to the response that they'd expected and prepared for.

"So, good. This tells me three things. First, that you're not suicidally negligent, FP, seeing as you finally came to me about this." Wilson's tone was dry. "Second, you're not incompetent, Davies: you actually made contact with Rose while you were working the Toronto bust. Third, apparently you've finally got something we can move on, so developing the contact wasn't a complete waste of time and you two aren't trying to play both sides the way Russell did, getting himself killed in the process."

Wilson settled back in her chair and steepled her fingers. "Have you made arrangements for Forsythe to stay somewhere he'll be safe, or do you need some help setting that up? I can see that he's protected and do it in such a way that not even you know where he's located. From what I'm hearing, you two came in here hoping to leave the country tonight, and that might be the best plan. What exactly do you have in mind?"

"Well, here's the thing. We'd like to take Jonas with us." Brand felt like he'd been caught more than a little flat-footed, but he was catching up quickly: Russell's safe deposit box must have contained enough of his semi-accurate conspiracy theorist information to muddy the waters and create far-reaching problems for the FBI, but not enough to fully dislodge the disgrace under which he'd been killed.

Brand was also well aware that if they could make their pitch and get out relatively quickly, there was less chance of them saying something that might contradict Wilson's intel and get them into trouble with the FBI. And they needed to avoid trouble, since they would more than likely need the backup that the FBI could provide.

"Who on earth is Jonas?"

"That's Jones' - FP's son's - undercover identity. It's the name he was using when he met Rose." Brandon eyed Wilson levelly, wondering if she was messing with them again to see how they'd respond and what they'd reveal. "You should already know all about that. We think he might be vital to the success of our mission."

"My answer is no. What else have you considered?" Wilson didn't blink.

"Uh, just a second. He'll be traveling with me, with or without your blessing. I'm not leaving him behind," FP stated. "If that means you're talking to Brandon from here on out, then so be it."

"You are correct, FP. That does mean I'm talking to Brandon from here on out." Wilson did not hesitate, and she nodded toward the door. "You are still an asset, and I expect you to abide by everything you've signed and we've discussed, but as long as you're involving Forsythe, from this moment forward your travels are officially your own business."

FP's eyes widened. He had not expected to have his bluff called at all, let alone so swiftly and completely.

"Do I really have to spell it out? I'm telling you to _go_, FP." Wilson's tone suddenly softened, and she leaned forward on her elbows. "I'm saying that you'll still be paid and under an umbrella of FBI protection, but that I cannot endorse anything that you choose to do as an independent actor with your underage son in tow. Brandon cannot and will not do anything to break his clearance or confidentiality, so he has different restrictions - and privileges. But I trust that he'll see to it that you and 'Jonas' are taken care of."

FP's eyes were still wide when he met Brandon's equally shocked gaze.

"Uh, you heard the SAC." Brandon motioned toward the office door. "You're officially out. Make sure the kid gets something to eat. Don't leave the building without me - so make it delivery -, but he's going to crash hard if he goes much longer without substantial food. And I have a feeling this meeting may take a while."

"Oh, you have no idea," Wilson leaned back and her cool expression returned as she focused on Brandon. She looked up once again, as another thought occurred to her. "It is past lunchtime. Do me a favor and talk to Quinn about ordering pizza for all of us, FP. She'll know the place."

"Yes, Ma'am." FP gave her a tight smile and then left the office.

**00000**

When Brand finally emerged from SAC Wilson's office, he appeared to be both chastened and distracted. He joined FP and Jughead and grabbed a slice of pizza from the open box beside them.

"Agent Sarah wants to talk to you," Jughead reported. "She had to go do some work after Dad got done with the meeting, and she's having Clark shadow her for the day so that he won't have to go to the RA, but she knows that something's up."

"She's smart. And that's not exactly rocket science." Brand nodded and then took a big bite of pizza.

"Are you in trouble? Are you fired?" Jughead watched Brand's tense body language nervously.

"Any formal action at this time could delay or prevent the success of our mission." Brand's eyebrows lowered as he spoke around the mouthful of pizza. He swallowed and then shrugged. "So maybe. I won't know until it's more convenient for the FBI to make that determination. But that's approximately the forty-eighth most pressing concern in my life right now, kid."

"Would 'formal action' include prosecut-,"

"Remember _The Dirty Dozen_? Or the filthy thirteen?" Brand cut Jughead off. "You ranted about the lack of historicity for a week, as I recall."

"The World War Two movie?" Jughead's forehead knit with confusion. "Yeah. They made up a ton, and totally played up-,"

Brand waited as Jughead fell silent.

"_Oh_. Really?"

"Not entirely. I'm not being accused of anything, and I'm certainly not a convict. There's also no formal deal waiting for me if we pull this off."

FP sighed then. "Wasn't that the entire premise of the operation? I'm not sure I see where you're going with this, Brandon."

"He might keep his job, Dad, but nobody wants to stick their neck out in case things go badly and it's a moot point," Jughead translated. "It's probably a decision for someone other than SAC Wilson, so she can't make any guarantees, and Brand can't talk about the details."

Brand nodded. "Bingo. On all counts."

"I will never understand your codes." FP shook his head, both impressed and a little concerned that Jughead was still so able to interpret Brand's bizarre means of communicating information.

"Good." Brand smirked at him, perking up a little. "That is the point of having codes, after all."

"Yeah. To hide things from you, Dad," Jughead contributed with a smirk of his own. He laughed when FP responded by hooking an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer on the couch they were sharing.

"Not anymore, it's not." FP looked back and forth between the two. "You'll have to teach me the codes now. We might even need to develop some new ones."

"This level of expertise can't be taught," Jughead said smugly. "But don't worry; you'll pick up the basics quickly enough through immersion. It will be a crash course."

"You bet." Brand nodded at FP. "You'll be fluent in no time."

"I can hardly wait," FP said dryly.

"I'll help you. We both will. You don't have to worry about us keeping secrets from you and putting you in danger ever again." Jughead's tone was suddenly serious and his expression fiercely protective as he looped his own arm over the one his father still had around his shoulders and looked up at FP. "Toronto can be a scary place, but Brand and I know our way around. It'll be okay. We've got each other's backs, and we've got yours too."

FP looked torn between wanting to accept Jughead's heartfelt offer and wanting to correct him on who exactly would be protecting whom.

"Well. The sun's shining, we've got clearance and resources lined up, and I want to pick up a few things before we hit the road." Brand's tone was brusque but light as he headed off FP's reply and responded himself to Jughead's abrupt shift in mood. "I'm going to go chat with Agent Quinn, and then we'll show your father how we did things when you were a Davies."

"You bet," Jughead echoed Brand, his expression brightening."You can be an honorary Davies too, Dad."

"Bite your tongue, boy." FP looked genuinely appalled for a moment, but then cracked a small smile when both Jughead and Brand laughed at his reaction. "But who knows. Maybe someday, if he works really hard, we'll let Brandon try his hand at being a Jones for a bit. We'll have to see."

"Wow. That's generous of you, old man." Brand's grin was suddenly less confident, but he seemed quietly pleased. "Those are some big, smelly shoes to fill."

"Oh _no_." Jughead looked up at Brand in dismay as his words jogged his memory. "I think I forgot to pack socks for Dad."

"Oy. Really, kid? I guess we'll have to stop back by the house, then. We could pick some up along the way, but I'm not willing to take any chances with a delay." Brand smirked at FP.

"I'll check over what else is in the suitcase, too." FP shook his head, likewise amused. "It's hard to pack for someone else. Stopping home is probably a good idea."

**00000**

"So where are they?" Archie was still confused, and he was pretty sure his dad was as well - and just didn't want to let on. "When are they coming back?"

"They're consulting with a specialist somewhere out of town. They don't know how long that's going to take, and if there's treatment involved it could be a while." Fred shrugged helplessly. "That's as much as I know, Arch. Brandon found Jughead passed out in his room this morning, Clark called FP to come home from work, and I saw FP leaving the job site. I've only seen him that upset before on a few occasions, and none of them were pleasant."

Fred gave Archie a sympathetic look. "I guess they had an emergency appointment somewhere nearby, and ultimately decided to hit the road to get Jughead access to better medical help than we have locally. The nutritionists around here were confused in the spring; you remember all of that."

"Well yeah, but I don't think it's so weird that he keeps losing weight. Jughead eats a ton, but he just, like, stays so wired all of the time that he burns it all off. He's always training, working out, or he's running with Trig now that his ribs are better. I mean, he's not exactly a medical mystery. Unless the mystery is why he's so obsessed with being 'ready for anything.'" Archie's voice was filled with judgment as he continued: "I bet that if Brand let him go to bed earlier, took Trig on some runs, and gave Jug more days off from training, he'd stop losing weight."

Archie caught his father's disapproving expression and softened his tone. "Or maybe he _is _really sick and it's not normal, but Jughead never said anything about it. And I get that FP's freaking out, but what I _don't _get is why nobody was acting that way until today if this has been an ongoing thing. It's not like Jughead's never passed out before; he might just have the flu again. Clark didn't go with them, right?"

"He's staying with Agent Quinn for now. He's got grad classes and work to do at the resident agency, and he's not family in the same way that Brandon is. I understand that Clark's also under some official protection after the attack this weekend." Fred considered Archie's words further and frowned. "Exactly how much staying up late and training has Jughead been describing?"

"I don't know. It always sounds like a lot to me, but he's not super specific. Shouldn't FP be staying where he's protected, too?" Archie was fairly sure that something here wasn't adding up.

"I guess as long as Brandon's traveling with him, they're willing to take the risk." Archie's dad was still frowning. "I'd be worried if it were you; I'd take some risks. Does Jughead normally train alone with Brandon, one on one, or does FP do that with them regularly these days?"

"I have no idea, Dad. Why hasn't Jughead answered? Presumably he's not passed out right _now_." Archie looked down at his phone and his series of sent texts.

"I wouldn't think so, but we also don't know how he's feeling. It seemed serious." Fred sighed. "You'll probably need to be patient, Archie. We'll hear more when they're up for sharing more."

"I can be patient; that's not the problem. I'd just be less worried if I'd heard any of this directly from Jughead."

"Yeah." Fred's eyebrows lowered, and Archie was surprised by how his dad's expression closed off as he considered Archie's words. "You know, I think I would be, too."

**00000**

Betty sat on the edge of Alice's bed. She was still debating whether it had been a good idea to come here and to share her fears with both Veronica and Alice. So far Betty was not feeling better at all.

"So of course you're welcome to stay with us for as long as you like," Veronica was saying to Alice. "Nothing has changed as far as that goes. You have your college fund back-,"

"I have a whole lot more than just my college fund," Alice corrected uncomfortably. "I just got the keys to my Dad's house in the mail today, and access to two more bank accounts. I'm turning eighteen in a year, so I don't think anyone expects me to act as a shelter for their assets - or else they have another think coming - but I am pretty sure this is meant to make me independent. No more excuses for... hanging around. Or putting you and your mother out."

"You're not putting us out." Veronica rubbed Alice's shoulder reassuringly. "We love having you here, and you heard my mom over dinner. You can stay until you go away to college, and you can totally keep your room for vacations and summers. There's no reason to change anything. Except maybe in your head, which is fine if it means that you want to move out, but seriously - don't feel like you have to do that because of us."

"Argh, you're too nice. That just makes it even more confusing." Alice gave Veronica a smile, but it was obvious that she was still tense.

"Then you're seeing the picture clearly," Veronica reassured Alice. "You have as many options as you want to consider, and you can take any one of them. No judgment; no pressure."

"It's too many options. But we got distracted, sorry Betty," Alice motioned toward her other friend. "Let's get back to talking about you. And Jughead. So he finally texted? He's okay?"

"Well, he texted, anyway," Betty confirmed. "I can't tell if he's okay. He just said that he might be sick and they have to travel to see a specialist, and he's not sure when they'll be back."

"Nothing about Davies or FP?" Alice cocked her head, skeptical in her assessment.

"Exactly!" Betty gestured in frustration, and suddenly it was clear that she had come to the right place and the right people. Alice and Veronica understood a lot more than anyone else about these dynamics. "If he wasn't worried, Juggie would have said that Brand was overreacting, or that his dad was panicking, since they pulled him out of school for this. So something must be really wrong; he might even be having worse symptoms than he described."

Veronica heard her phone buzz and picked it up. "Archie's worried too. His theory is that Brand is making Jughead sick."

"What? Like... Munchausen by proxy?" Alice interjected skeptically.

"No, nothing that weird. More like pushing him past his limits in their training and schedule," Veronica clarified. "It also sounds like Archie got basically the same text that Betty did."

Alice considered that. "Can he forward the text that he got?"

"I'll ask."

Moments later, Veronica's phone buzzed again. She silently read the text Archie had forwarded. "Oh. Huh. Isn't this... word-for-word identical to the text that you got, Betty?"

Betty took the phone. "Yeah, it is. That's strange."

"It might be a signal. Maybe he's being held against his will?" Alice made a face. "If FP and Davies are forcing him to travel and see a doctor, and they were monitoring his phone usage-,"

"I don't know. That doesn't sound like FP, especially because he can legally force Jughead to go. He _is _his dad, and I always got the sense that he doesn't really care that much whether Jughead complains to his friends about him. Maybe Brand would send texts on Jughead's phone, but I feel like he's too smart for them to be identical. He knows that we talk to each other." Betty bit her lip. "It's more like… this is what Jughead was authorized to say. It was the approved wording, maybe."

"You think this is an FBI thing?" Veronica asked.

"Honestly, it seems too elaborate for that." Betty made a face. "Jughead passed out, Brand found him, Clark called FP, and they were referred to a specialist out of town... Would the FBI make all of that up?"

"Probably not," Veronica agreed.

"Maybe he's really sick. He might not have noticed that the texts he sent were identical, or he was too tired to care." Alice looked more worried by this idea than any they'd raised so far.

"Yeah. Maybe." Betty felt chilled by that thought. She wasn't entirely sure why that felt like the worst-case scenario, but it really did. "If that's the case, then I hope the specialist has some answers for him."

**00000**

Brand was driving, and Jughead shifted his position between his godfather and FP in the tiny middle seat of the used car that they'd bought for this… trip. Trigger had fallen asleep on the back seat after he'd finally given up on trying to convince Jughead to let him join them in the crowded front.

FP's left arm tightened reflexively where it was wrapped around Jughead's ribs, and he used his free hand to gently tip his son's head toward his chest. "Relax. You should try to sleep, Jug. It's a long way to Toronto, and it's already late."

Brand looked over at the two of them. "Is your father keeping you awake by using you as a security blanket, Jones?"

"No." Jughead snuggled a little closer to his dad. For as much as FP didn't want to let go of him, at this point Jughead figured it was only saving him the trouble of having to hold onto his dad; the specter of losing each other had hit them both hard, and somehow getting on the road had made the near miss feel even more visceral. "It's fine. I just can't sleep this time. I'm all jittery."

"This time?" FP brushed Jughead's hair back from his forehead in an effort to soothe him when he felt his son's neck tense. "It's okay. I know you mean last fall, when we lost the trailer. I'm just... curious about how our reenactment is stacking up against that."

"_Way_ better. I was awake all night that time, trying to figure out how to get away from Joe's guys. Brand finally broke me out of there, before… stuff happened." Jughead spoke tentatively, but then with more confidence when FP did not react. "I slept the whole way to Canada. It was a total surprise when I woke up."

"You barely seemed to notice," Brand contributed, looking more at FP than at Jughead. "You had a zombie look to you for quite a while."

"Yeah, I was really tired. For, like, weeks." Jughead sighed. "I probably had mono or caught some weird basement disease from Joe's. Are you trying to sleep, Dad? Or do you want to listen to music or something?"

"Actually, there's a bag on the floor behind your seat, next to the cooler," Brand offered. "Try not to stir the monster up, but I've got a book in there for you."

They'd packed some food, both for the road and with the assumption that shopping for the one-bedroom apartment Brand had been provided by the FBI (after staying in the townhouse was deemed 'too obvious') might not be their first priority.

"Thanks, Brand. I should have thought to pack a book somewhere I could reach." Jughead twisted around until his hand found a canvas bag. "Hey, is this my camera bag?"

"Yeah. I don't know how long we'll be in Toronto, or what we'll have time for, but I wanted you to have it. The book's in there," Brand said.

They'd stopped back at the house after picking up the used car, and all three had done a quick once-over of the place to grab items they might need or find useful. Jughead had been assigned to get food for at least a few days' meals, and now he wondered what Brand had gotten during that time. FP had primarily focused on double-checking Jughead's hasty packing job.

Jughead pulled out the book, recognizing its shape and heft immediately. "My SAT prep book? Why would you pack _that_?"

"Because you need to ace those." Brand looked over at him. "I might be asking Fred Andrews for a manual labor job if we come through this alive, but you'll still have a future ahead of you. No offense, FP; I'm sure you'll be the one bossing me around if that actually happens." FP grunted but did not say anything. "Your father can use his cell phone light and study with you while I drive. When he takes a turn driving, we can switch off quizzing you."

"You don't think this is literally the last thing on my mind, Brand?" Jughead was incredulous.

"That's the problem. If we survive, your score needs to be top notch. And surviving is, believe it or not, our top-line goal. So get studying." Brand motioned for FP to take the book from Jughead.

"It sounds like a smart plan to me," FP said as he rifled through the all-too-familiar book. "We can pick up right where we left off. All we need are study snacks."

"Also in the camera bag." Brand smiled over at the Joneses. "And you thought this wouldn't be fun."

"Do you think we're going to… be tourists?" Jughead was craning his neck now as he fished through the camera bag to find the promised snacks. "Or am I just supposed to take photos of us doing random things undercover?"

"I don't know what we'll be doing just yet, but our cover might include a few tourist activities, yes." Brand kept a close eye on FP's reaction as he reached over to tweak Jones' neck affectionately. "Look, it's not going to be like a mafia movie. Setting things up might be the most time-consuming part. Everything with Rose will probably be very smooth, very civil, and then we'll be out of there."

"Or it will be very smooth, very civil, and then we'll be dead," Jughead supplied. "Right?"

"In which case it's better not to see the bullet coming, and instead to be fully prepared for the SATs and to enjoy whatever tourist activities we get the chance to engage in." Brand had left his hand resting on Jughead's shoulder, but now FP knocked it away with a harsh rap of his knuckles.

"You gonna stop fighting over me at some point?" Jughead looked from one adult to the other.

"Never." FP said with a dark smile. "And that had better be your godfather's answer, too, since you're ground zero for our mission in Toronto. Now, which section should we work on?"

"Math." Jughead sighed in resignation as he held up the large bag of bulls-eye caramels toward Brand so that his godfather could scoop a handful of the wrapped candies onto his lap. "And if our cover is that we're on vacation, then you two have to make it part of your cover story that you get along. People will remember you if you fight; it's conspicuous."

"That's true." Brand's tone was mild, and he didn't look over at FP.

"We'll start when we get there." FP's smirk was audible in his voice. "All right; I found where we left off. I'll have one of those caramels, too."

Jughead held the bag up for his father. He could hear FP's heartbeat with his head so close to him, and he felt something in his neck relax. "I'm glad you're here, Dad."

"Me too, Jug." FP shot one more look at Brand, but did not comment further.

**00000**

**On the road agaaaaaaain! This turned out surprisingly complicated as I plotted out the different threads and who has what information (the story of this whole series...?), but I think we've got liftoff... and I hope you enjoyed! I'll love any and all comments as the Toronto portion begins, and I hope you have a lovely weekend!**

**-Button**


	17. Chapter 17

**Another chapter! We are really, really sprawling this time. Moving forward, but length estimates are officially a thing of the past. :-D**

**Skyrider45, thank you so much for the review! We finally got more of a bead on Wilson (yay!), and I was surprised too by how sad the cookies bit was. Hopefully they'll get to do that eventually! (plan for final story of series: make it longer than all other stories combined? :-D ) Nice analysis of Brand and the SAT book, too; he's smart, and I think you are right that it was a helpful idea for keeping Jug optimistic and focused. Also: I hope you're having a good week!**

**Living Lucid Dream, you have a keen eye for detail. :) Quinn and Clark continue to be in the story, but I agree: sweet and out of the loop, and hopefully everyone will get safely back on track! Between Wilson and the dangers, there may indeed be big changes coming. I mentioned before that I shouldn't write a mammoth "choose your own adventure" version of the story that is eighteen times the length of this (already long) story, but I can see multiple possible paths! I also love Veronica, and she's got some great impulses, even though I agree with you that the teens might not follow the most logical impulses when it comes to worrying about Jug, because of their experiences... We shall see! Brand bringing the SAT book came up twice this week, so I thought a lot about that as well; he really does bring something Jug needs in his education (in Brand's obsessive way, of course), and it's one of the key places where Brand and FP balance each other (and hopefully Jughead) out - and where they are starting to find more common ground. I'll also be interested in seeing where it all goes. I hope you are doing well!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"Clark, I really need an answer on this." Agent Quinn was not trying to hide her amusement, but Clark's tactics were not getting them anywhere. "Can you take the time off from classes to travel with me and Agent Williams and learn about field work, or would you rather spend that time locally, so that you can continue attending school while working with Joaquin DeSantos?"

"Look, if I'm in that much danger, just say so. If I show up at the safe house and there's, like, a trapdoor and a cage, I'm going to say I told you so until the end of time." Clark was lying on Agent Quinn's couch with a textbook propped open on his lap. He grinned up at Sarah as he pushed his hair back from his forehead. "Also, I still haven't heard what kind of food options you each are offering. How many stars for the accommodations? Are there bedbugs or fleas or anything I need to worry about in either case?"

"I am not telling you anything more until we make the determination that you are - or are not - being read in on the situation."

"Ri-ight. The 'situation' that either involves field work or DeSantos." Clark nodded. "I'm hearing you. I just want to be sure I make the right decision for my education. My future."

"I'm not telling you anything. You need to make a decision, commit, and then you'll be read in."

"Or _not_ read in, as the case may be." Clark's eyes narrowed craftily. "So tell me again what Davies said about my staying with you?"

"This really isn't a game." Quinn sighed when Clark merely shrugged and continued grinning up at her. "He said, quote, 'Keep Clark alive for me, if he doesn't make that impossible. Let him hate me if that helps, but do whatever you can to make sure he stays safe.' End quote."

"No, the part about-,"

"He was joking."

"So say it in a funny voice; I don't mind." Clark smirked up happily. "I really think hearing it again will help me make a decision."

"Fine. But then you have to decide."

"Deal."

"He said not to flirt with you, encourage you in any way, or give you any impression at all that-,"

"That he would not soundly kick my rear if he came back and found that I'd made a move on you." Clark tucked his hands behind his head and stretched lazily. "Okay. I've decided. I'm going with you and Agent Williams."

"That's fine. I'll make the arrangements and update the RA-,"

"You don't want to know my reasons?" Clark's grin was increasingly mischievous.

"Not even a little bit." Agent Quinn raised an eyebrow, wondering fleetingly if this was what it was like to have a younger brother.

"Special Agent Davies obviously wants me to keep an eye on-,"

"I'll just send you to work with DeSantos if you're going to-,"

"Sorry. I'm done." Clark's tone was abruptly penitent. "I really do want to go with you and Williams. I promise, no more teasing."

"Good." Agent Sarah gave him a stern look but then smiled. "I'll let Wilson know and we'll read you in later today."

"Yes!" Clark pumped his fist. "I guessed right!"

"As if you were actually debating. You are starting to take after Davies," Sarah said as she turned and left the room. "We'll talk more later, but we'll be heading to Toronto this week. You'll need your passport."

Clark waited for Agent Quinn to leave before he allowed his smile to fade; he sat up and closed his textbook.

Toronto was where Davies had gone with Jones and FP for undisclosed reasons. It couldn't be a coincidence.

Sighing heavily, Clark raked both hands through his hair and slumped forward to rest his elbows on his knees and process how upsetting this news was. Apparently there was something very wrong.

And if something was so wrong with Jones, FP, and Davies that they needed backup from Quinn and Williams, then that was scary. It would have been much more reassuring to hear that it was a training exercise, or simply a continuation of the protections for DeSantos' role in the upcoming trials.

Clark owed them everything. His very life. Jones had personally knocked a knife away from his throat, and FP had been the one who made sure that nobody else came near him. Davies had freed him and overseen the apprehending of his attackers on the spot. They'd also taken him into their home, and that alone might have saved his life a dozen times over; Clark would never know for certain.

Well. Clark might not know what was coming or what role Agent Quinn would permit him along the way, but he was entirely determined that if there was any possibility whatsoever that he could help Jones, Davies, or FP, he'd be jumping in feet first.

**00000**

"FP, I said you could have the bed, and I meant it. You need to be well rested."

"Jughead is not going without a bed. Lord knows he did that enough when he was growing up."

"We've got the couch, too, and he's welcome to it. I'm good on the floor."

"Well, maybe I'm good on the couch."

"Look, you do alright in a recliner, but I just don't think your back is going to forgive you for this couch. Come on; don't turn this into a problem just because you're feeling guilty or have some misplaced sense of pride. Jones is young, and sleeping on a cheap couch won't mess his back up for days like it could do to you."

"Jughead shouldn't be doing _any _of this. The least I can do is make sure he has a real bed."

Jughead watched silently from the kitchen. So far he had been dissuaded from entering the argument by a potent brain fog due to sleep deprivation, but his dad seemed to be winding up instead of winding down.

Brand and FP had been tense since they'd arrived, and now they were stalking around the small one-bedroom apartment that had been arranged for them. Well, it had been arranged for Brand, and all of them would be sharing it.

Right about now it was seeming awfully small.

"No bunk bed this time?" Even as he tried to lighten the mood, Jughead stifled a yawn that was so powerful that it made his eyes water. He opened the cooler to begin transferring the perishable food to the refrigerator and freezer.

"Don't joke about that right now, huh, kid?" Brand's voice was tense. "I'm not superstitious, but I'd like to think this whole thing is going to go just a little more smoothly than that."

"What bunk bed, Jughead?" FP asked curiously, responding more to Brand's reaction than to anything his son had said. "When was that?"

"Oh, uh," Jughead looked between the two men with no small amount of trepidation and really wished that he was awake enough to think more clearly. Brand looked like he would be upset by any retelling, and now that Jughead was hesitating - and the seconds ticking past in silence - his dad was starting to look annoyed as well. "We were in an apartment that had a bunk bed once. That's all."

"Uh-huh." FP looked far from satisfied, but he let it drop.

With a pang of guilt, Jughead wondered if his dad was thinking of their years living in the trailer, and how even a bunk bed might have represented an improvement. Jughead also reflected that he had spent altogether too much time comparing the months he'd been living in Toronto to his painful reentry into life in Riverdale, so anything that his dad was feeling now was likely his fault. While he'd kept his mouth shut about it most of the time, Jughead didn't think he'd ever forget the times when FP had accurately intuited an unfavorable comparison. He doubted his dad would forget them either.

Brand sighed, looking from Jughead to FP. "We were keeping our heads down because of Jameson. Jones here got bored and almost climbed the walls," Brand shot FP a conciliatory look as he explained. "We bought quite a few books that week."

"At least we shouldn't run out of food this time. You won't have to, uh-," Jughead's brain abruptly caught up with his mouth and he stopped short.

Brand gave Jughead a horrified look from behind FP's back and then closed his eyes in frustration. "What, I won't have to tie you up and gag you so that I can get a moment's peace, or the freedom to make a grocery run?"

FP scoffed, and somehow the tension was broken. "Stop being dramatic, Brandon."

Jughead quickly turned back toward the refrigerator to hide his facial expression from his dad. His eyes felt sore from how long he'd been awake, and it was increasingly obvious that he was not firing on all cylinders.

A few moments later, Brand dropped a hand on his shoulder and started to help him unload the cooler. His voice was low when he spoke into Jughead's ear. "Stop trying to help."

"Yeah. Sorry, Brand."

"Your dad's processing. It's hard for him to be in Toronto with the two of us like this, even aside from the Rose situation. Give him some time, tell him some stories, but _please _try not to-,"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Just… wait until we get some sleep. Then whatever you want to say is fine. I can take the heat, and you might benefit from talking about some stuff now that your dad's here with us. I'm only asking for you not to do it right this minute." Brand squeezed Jughead's shoulders. He raised his voice so that he could be heard in the other room. "FP, are you hungry or do you want to go right to sleep?"

"The couch pulls out into a bed. It's not bad at all; it looks clean to me." FP sounded relieved and pleased as he made the non sequitur announcement. "Jug, we can both sleep here. And no, I'm not hungry. You two should have a snack while I get the beds made."

"That's fine by me," Brand replied.

"Can we…" Jughead looked from his dad to Brand and then lowered his voice so that only Brand would hear him. "Can we put the couch in the bedroom?"

Brand studied Jughead for a few moments, and then he moved from the small kitchen into the slightly larger living room. "Hey, FP, let's keep everyone in one spot for sleeping. It'll be easier to secure, and that way we'll have the option of putting the monster outside of our room. I don't know how he'll do overnight in an unfamiliar place, and we'll all need our sleep. Want to bring the bed out or the couch in?"

"Couch in," FP responded easily. "Fewer windows that way."

"Good thought." Brand helped him fold the bed back into the couch and then lift it. "I think it should just fit, too."

Jughead folded his arms over his stomach and smiled gratefully when Brand winked at him.

**00000**

Jughead wasn't sure that it was entirely normal to feel reassured by his father's loud breathing and Brand's occasional sleep-twitching on the bed, but his position on the pull-out couch between FP and Brand felt safe.

And for some reason, despite having felt bed calling insistently to him for the past hour or two, the moment Jughead had laid down in the dark room, he'd become inexplicably wide awake.

Trigger had adjusted well to the new location, and having sniffed around the apartment he'd been happy to curl up on Jughead's feet and go straight to sleep.

In fact it felt so safe that, in a corner of his mind, Jughead couldn't help feeling that it was one big reminder that it couldn't last. The morning was coming, and they'd have to begin the first stage of Brand's plan.

It apparently involved Brand and Jughead visibly being tourists in very public places, and beyond that Jughead "following Brand's lead," whatever that might entail.

FP needed to see and be seen as well - but only by specific people, and emphatically not by others. He was under orders to find some of his non-Serpent buddies and contacts in the city, firmly establishing a timeline for his presence in Toronto and laying groundwork that Rose could never deny, but at the same time not letting anyone within Rose's network catch wind of the fact that he was around. He was supposed to avoid the Serpents, too, since Brand insisted - and FP even acknowledged - that they were unpredictable and a little too willing to take matters into their own hands.

And if Rose so much as realized that FP was in the city, the jig would be up. Or at the very least, their whole ploy would look awfully suspicious.

It was a risky plan on all counts, and Jughead wondered for the millionth time what the FBI was doing to back them up. It had to be something, but Brand wasn't spilling so much as a hint. His silence on the subject was not the worst idea, since Jughead couldn't slip up with information that he did not have, but the teen was still was having trouble wrapping his head around the get-Jughead-reconciled-with-Rose plan paired with the establish-FP's-presence-locally-without-Rose-or-the-Serpents-knowing plan.

Because, as far as he could tell, none of that had anything to do with making the bust.

Brand had only said that it was meant to force Rose to honor both arrangements, first (hopefully) letting Jughead apologize and get off the hook for his missteps in their current deal, and then releasing him from _all _obligations when FP turned out to be in the city, watching like a hawk over Jughead's shoulder and pressuring Rose somewhat publicly into admitting that family members were - of _course _\- covered by FP's long-standing arrangement.

According to Brand, both steps had to happen, in that order, or else Rose could maintain a claim of some kind on Jughead. And only if Rose gave up any claim on him could the bust then be made without any fear of reprisal - since that was the only way that Jughead would be totally in the clear, and in fact protected from then on by Rose's (reluctant) blessing.

Or so Brand assured the Joneses.

Apparently Rose's impending retirement necessitated his keeping everyone confident that he was wholly committed to honoring his word. That part made sense.

The fact that so much effort was going into a two-stage process that in no way seemed to serve the FBI's interests (and in fact only delayed the bust), or even Brand's interests for that matter, made Jughead extremely uncomfortable.

Moreover, the terrifyingly simple nature of the plan, paired with the incredible ease with which it could unravel without any warning if someone made a wrong move, almost made Jughead wonder if it was all an elaborate ruse for his own benefit and not Brand's actual plan at all.

He kind of hoped that was the case.

Trigger sighed and snuffled against Jughead's left shin.

Brand rolled over noisily.

FP's hand jerked, startling Jughead when it closed on his shoulder, but his breathing went straight back to its sleep pattern once he had a firm grip on his son.

Jughead patted his dad's hand, hoping that would reassure him even in his sleep. And as the grip on his shoulder relaxed slightly, Jughead felt his own eyes closing and his thoughts beginning to wander to Brand's tourist plans. They were as yet undisclosed, but Brand had told him to charge his camera batteries.

Jughead nudged Trigger lightly so that he could adjust his legs, and soon he was drifting off to sleep as well.

**00000**

"Pretty nice, huh?" Brand motioned to the waterfront and the crowds of people streaming past one another between tourist attractions. "I've already got passes to some stuff, but anything you see and you like, let's do it."

Jughead blinked at the packed area. "I guess this is what Alice always talked about. She mentioned the islands, too."

"I want us in the jam-packed places for today, but we can put those on the agenda for tomorrow." Brand nodded agreeably. "Let's get you somewhere visible and I'll make the first phone call."

"Sounds good." Jughead knew that meant Brand would be calling Rose to lay groundwork for - or perhaps even set up - their first meeting with him. Jughead wasn't meant to overhear, in part so that he'd honestly be in the dark about what was said and could play it cool. "I'll get a few shots from over there."

Jughead pointed toward a likely vantage point where he could photograph several striking views just by turning in different directions. The spot was already crowded with photographers.

Brand nodded and pulled out his phone. "Right there. Don't budge."

Once his godson was far enough away that he would not overhear, Brand called Rose.

"Brandon? What a surprise."

"A good one, I hope. I've got a few more surprises for you too, Rose. I brought Jones to Toronto to make his apologies, some commitments, and also for you to get a good look at why I think he's going to pay out." Brand wasn't messing around; he made the pitch in one breath. "There's no hurry. I know you're a busy man with a tight schedule, so we've made it an open-ended trip and we've got a few outings lined up."

"You're here? You brought the boy? How _thoughtful_." Rose sounded pleased. Very pleased.

Brand had gauged this correctly, then.

"I do have some obligations that I'm juggling at the moment, but by all means - I've been eager to see Jones in person and to catch up with you more satisfyingly. I trust he filled you in on his recent questionable behavior?"

"Yes - he's been overeager, but I've seen him make some huge strides in maturity over just a couple of days. You have a knack for bringing out the value in your associates." Brand warmed up his tone as he continued. "He's better trained every day. I don't think we could have timed a visit more appropriately, and I believe you'll be very impressed."

"Really?" Rose sounded intrigued. "He's responded so well to my little nudges? Considering his youth, that is surprising. It's also refreshing; I suffer overeager associates in every area of life, or so it seems, and having someone around who is a little more responsive to my _stated _desires and needs would be a delightful change of pace."

Given Rose's moves toward retirement, that dynamic was hardly surprising. Everyone wanted an opportunity to shine and they were no doubt scrambling to gain any foothold in the enterprise.

"He's made great progress." Brand smiled into the phone, knowing that his expression would carry in his voice. "You'll be pleased."

Jones looked over from about thirty yards away, a questioning look on his face. Brand nodded and waved encouragingly; this was going about as well as he could have hoped for, and he figured that was apparent even from a distance.

"So, when would be best for you?" Brand continued.

"Well, that depends." Rose's tone became thoughtful. "Tomorrow evening might be workable for a brief visit, and we could decide at that time whether it would be beneficial for me to get to know Jones better during your trip. Perhaps one on one."

"Absolutely." Brand had expected that threat and he did not hesitate. "That is very reasonable, and given the time and resources that you've invested it might even be prudent. He's more than up to it."

"However, I suppose I will have to make time sooner if I'm pressed to do so."

Rose's tone shifted slightly, and Brand was suddenly on high alert.

"We've got the time. I don't think there's any need-,"

"Overeager associates _do _love to mess with my schedule, and I never wish to disappoint when they show up with a gift. They can be much like cats, presenting me with their kill and expecting to be patted and fed." Rose sounded downright amused now. "But if you could head that off when it comes to young Jones and keep things on track for tomorrow evening, I'd appreciate it, Brandon."

Brand was way ahead of him, already scanning the crowd anxiously for a glimpse of Jones.

Who had disappeared.

**00000**

Jughead was supporting his camera awkwardly with one hand as he was ushered swiftly through the crowd by the two larger men who had approached him. "Hang on. Where's Brand? I thought he was coming too?"

"He knows where we're headed." One of the men motioned vaguely. "He'll be at the car."

If Brand had not waved and nodded to confirm the men's story, Jughead would be fighting every step of the way. It was frustrating not being privy to the details of their plan and its apparently convoluted steps, but Jughead figured that the best thing he could do for the moment was play along and keep his eyes and ears open.

Brand had also taken Jughead's cellphone the previous day, turning off the GPS and assuring him that they would sit down together to text and reassure his friends each night before bed, so Jughead couldn't try calling his godfather. It was probably a moot point anyway, since Brand had been on the phone when Jughead was approached in the crowd and told that he was supposed to go with these men to meet with Rose.

All the same, Jughead couldn't help but think of Clark, and his suggestion that too much caution was sometimes better than not enough.

"Let's give him a minute to catch up." Jughead tugged against the men's grip on his upper arms, pulling them to a halt. "It's hard to find people around here, and he's not always the sharpest."

Jughead craned his neck, trying to spot Brand in the crowd.

"Rose won't like a delay." The man's grip on Jughead's arm shifted slightly, and suddenly he was manipulating a pressure point. "Brandon will be able to find us more easily once we're in the car, kid. Keep moving."

"Hey. Do you know these guys?" All three were startled when a stranger stepped in front of the trio. While he was neither large nor obviously muscular, he seemed astonishingly confident about accosting them, and made careful, searching eye contact with Jughead.

"Uh, I-," Jughead was torn. He was nervous about going along with the men, and the situation was setting off all of his self-preservation instincts, but at the same time he really didn't want to screw up part of Brand's plan. Everything about the mission in Toronto was liable to make Jughead nervous - uncomfortable - after all, and involving an innocent bystander in any way seemed like a frankly terrible idea.

"His father's meeting us right over there." The second man spoke up when Jughead faltered, pointing toward the street.

"I'm talking to him. Do you know these guys? Are you okay?" The tourist repeated his words, this time more gently. "I'm on vacation, so I'm out of uniform, but I'm a police officer from DC and you don't look all right to me. Did these two approach you and say that your father's having an emergency? Have you tried calling him?"

Jughead hesitated again, trying to formulate a plan - but he really wasn't sure what his goal was, so that made this impossibly tricky.

More people were stopping to watch the confrontation play out.

When the two men dropped his arms and disappeared into the crowd, Jughead wasn't sure if he should panic or be relieved.

"Are you okay, son?" The vacationing policeman watched the two men flee with a sharp frown, but seemed unwilling to leave Jughead alone in the crowd. "That _is _what was going on, wasn't it? Were they armed? Did they threaten you?"

Before Jughead could respond, another hand closed on his arm, yanking him forcibly into a strong embrace. Jughead was entirely disoriented, and he struggled against the larger man's grip before it became clear that Brand had located him.

"Jones, somehow I don't think you've gotten the memo about strangers. We're going to need to have a good long talk."

Jughead sagged with relief. "Dad! There you are. I couldn't find you."

Brand looked at him like he was crazy, but the tourists milling around them smiled at the happy reunion and began to move along.

"You're his father?" The vacationing officer did not move away and seemed ready to lecture them both. "I don't know if you're aware, but there are people who will grab an unattended kid right off the street. It's less common for it to be a teenage boy, but you can see for yourself how quickly it can happen. They tell him a convincing story or pull a weapon, and you so much as blink and he's gone."

"Uh... thanks." Brand seemed torn between wanting to smooth the interaction and wanting to escape.

"Oh, sorry. I'm not some crazy person who's trying to scare you; I'm a police officer, and trust me, I know this sort of thing. Keep an eye on your boy. And you, young man, stick closer to your father. For the most part this is a safe city, but in any place there can be predators looking for an opportunity. You've got that nice camera, too, so they might have targeted you for having some money."

"Thank you," Jughead replied quickly, before Brand could say anything. "I won't get too far away from my dad again."

"Good. I'm glad things turned out this way." The man smiled and nodded to Brand before he moved along as well.

Brand sighed heavily, doing a quick check of Jughead to make sure that he was unharmed.

"I'm fine. I could have gotten away, but I was confused. They said they were with Rose, and I thought you were nodding to say that I should go along with them-,"

"Well, let's clear that right up. Absolutely _nothing _at any point in our plan involves you being taken away from me without your consent and a full conversation first. Anyone grabs you like that again? I want you to take them down hard; I wouldn't mind seeing broken bones and permanent damage. I didn't know about them, and Rose didn't send them."

Brand looped an arm around Jughead's shoulders and he gave him a reassuring squeeze. "They probably were planning to take you to him, though, and most likely you would have been just fine."

Jughead made a face at Brand, confused by that idea. "Why? We're already planning to see Rose."

"I think this is starting to seem like one big… retirement party to Rose." Brand shrugged. "He's enjoying the attention and the jockeying, and whether or not he has any desire whatsoever to see you traumatized or me scrambling to put out one fire after another, it's got to be flattering to him."

Jughead still looked skeptical, so Brand continued explaining.

"Think about it, Jones. Guys grabbing you off the street to impress him. His heir apparent shutting it down, proving once again Rose's good judgment in choosing me. His mildly rebellious protégé getting a good scare and toeing the line more with each passing day. From what I can tell, he thinks it's funny."

"_Funny_?" Jughead felt someone brush a little too closely against him in the crowded area and he flinched into Brand.

"It's important that you understand this, kid. He's rational, and that means we can work with him; I'm pretty sure of that. But he's dangerous, too, and he's... whimsical." Brand looked pained. "He likes the idea of you, and I've done my best to encourage that. But we really don't want the winds to change once he gets to know you in reality."

"If those guys had brought me to Rose, would the winds have changed?"

"It would have meant I'd fallen down on the job of supervising you. It might have turned out to be nothing more than an amusing anecdote, or it could have blown up into a serious reason to rethink my merits as 'next guy in line.'" Brand shrugged. "It would have said that I didn't have control of you. And if there's one thing Rose seems to want when it comes to you, it's control."

"You'd get demoted and I'd be…?"

"I don't know. And let's not find out." Any trace of worry was replaced by determination when Brand looked down once again at Jughead. "That's our plan: to never find out. Now, we've officially got free time until tomorrow night to enjoy the city. At that point we'll meet with Rose and any further incidents involving messing with you should end. Let's go see some stuff and make it real clear to one and all that I feel completely in control - and that you're in lock step with me."

Jughead wanted nothing more than to call his dad to come home from wherever he was meeting with his own contacts, head back to the apartment, and hole up with his SAT prep book, Trigger, and the rest of the wolf pack.

Instead he nodded. "I guess… let's go up in the tower. Just stay close so I don't look like I'm alone. I don't want to actually break anyone's bones, all right?"

"I've got your six, killer. From now on, within arm's reach. Just like FP wanted." Brand nodded firmly.

**00000**

Brand was still a little shaken up when they got home, even though Jones had relaxed quickly once they were inside a building and being herded through lines and enclosed spaces designed for photo ops.

"Dad, it's too bad you can't come and tour the city with us. I brought you pictures, though," Jones declared as they reentered the apartment bearing bags of take-out and a sturdier bag filled with souvenirs that the kid had wanted to pick up for his friends back home. "Can I text, Brand? I just want to let everyone know that we made it safely and I miss them."

"Let's eat and then we can gin up some text messages together," Brand assented. Then he noticed that FP had not moved from his seat at the tiny dining room table, and he appeared to be studying the two of them intently. "Successful day, FP? Or did something come up?"

"I really ought to be asking the two of you that." FP's tone was flat.

"Oh. Uh." Jones froze, and Brand could feel himself doing the same. It hadn't been Clark who'd tipped FP off this time, but the man certainly seemed to have his finger on the pulse these days. "I was going to tell you over dinner, Dad-,"

"No need. I was _regaled _with the story of how some traffickers got awfully close to getting away with a teenager before an American plainclothes cop intervened." FP looked from one to the other. "What happened to arm's length? At least you 'intervened,' but the whole thing-,"

"Wait, what? The cop wasn't Brand." Jones looked puzzled.

FP's expression went from troubled to furious in the space of a heartbeat.

"Hey, don't get the wrong idea. I was there the whole time. The cop didn't even do much - he said a few things, and I was _right there_," Brand defended himself swiftly.

"What was really going on? I assume that traffickers didn't actually choose this moment to randomly target Jughead." FP continued scowling, but he seemed willing to hear them out, so that was something.

"Jones, you tell him the story so he knows he's getting it straight," Brand directed. "We didn't rehearse this, either, so don't even go down that road."

"He already gave you away on the plainclothes cop thing, so I think I believe that." FP nodded. "Jug?"

"Hey. Stop putting me in the middle." Jughead set his bags down on the table and looked from FP to Brand. "I'm not settling all of your fights."

"This is not the time to make a stand, kid."

"Just tell me what happened first, and then we can air your complaints," FP promised.

Jughead sighed. "Fine. We think that two of Rose's guys tried to bring me in so they could get some kind of credit with Rose before Brand could arrange a meeting. I wasn't sure what was going on, so since I couldn't be sure that it _wasn't _part of the plan-,"

Both Jones and FP gave Brand twin accusatory looks, as if his decision to keep information on a need-to-know basis was anything other than a major pain in his neck.

"-I almost walked right off with them. The policeman thought the whole thing looked fishy, and Brand was right there by then."

"By then?" FP seemed relieved to hear that the incident had not been worse, but he still eyed them suspiciously.

"Yeah. He was like a foot away and he grabbed me. And after that Brand didn't let me out of reach for the rest of the day."

"Good." FP nodded. "Let's keep it that way for the rest of your tourist adventures."

"That will just be tomorrow. We see Rose tomorrow night." Brand started opening the take-out containers as he spoke, figuring they'd do better with some food in them while they discussed this.

"Is that going to keep any other 'traffickers' away from Jughead?" FP seemed to take the news in stride. Which made some sense, since this had been their plan from the outset.

"Yeah. Once Rose has laid eyes on him, there's no more prize for dragging the kid into Xanadu."

"Good. Come here, Jughead." FP reached toward Jones, who obediently moved to sit next to his father at the table.

FP took a deep breath and his voice was intense when he spoke again. "I hate this plan. I hated hearing that some guys went anywhere near you today, I hated not being there to take them apart for trying it, and I'm not thrilled that Brandon was apparently far enough away that someone else felt the need to step in."

Jones nodded, and seemed like he was about to say something. FP held up a hand and it looked like it took a monumental effort for him to continue speaking with a level tone.

"But I know that I have to trust you, and I have to trust Brandon. I _also _know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you're going to impress Rose, and that after tomorrow we'll be one step closer to being done here. You're doing a great job with limited information, and I'm proud of you."

"But Dad, I almost-," Jones, ever the contrarian, suddenly seemed a whole lot more upset by what had happened now that he was receiving encouragement.

"Hey. Listen to me. You didn't 'almost' anything, Jughead. You and Brandon clearly went straight into panic mode, so I don't think you've thought this through. What would have happened if you'd gotten to a strange car and your godfather was nowhere to be seen?" FP smiled fondly, even though worry was still obvious in his expression. "I've seen you fight, and I've even seen you fight off people trying to get you into a car when you felt unsafe. My best guess is that you'd have been out of there in seconds, and those guys would have had their butts handed to them."

Jones looked both shocked and thoughtful in response to this new perspective. "That's... not what you said when you thought Brand was trying to kidnap me."

"That's because I've seen Brandon take you down time and again, Jug, and I know he's capable of spinning a story that would keep you from even attempting to fight back."

Jones sneaked a peek over at Brand, seemingly in agreement with FP's assessment. Brand shrugged; it was true enough.

"Now, don't you get cocky, boy. A weapon or an unlucky hit changes things faster than you would think possible - and your ribs aren't even fully healed -, but I honestly don't think this was as close a call as it could have been." FP gave Jones' forearm a gentle tap for emphasis.

Brand watched approvingly as Jones absorbed his father's words and his shoulders began to relax. FP surprised Brand from time to time, and this was one of those instances: it was important that the kid go in confident the following evening, and his father obviously understood that. Good.

And, as Brand thought about it more, he had to concede that FP was not wrong. Jones probably would have been just fine, even if he'd gone quite a bit further with the two men who'd accosted him. Nobody wanted to find that out for sure one way or the other, but it was a surprisingly heartening thought.

"Yeah, that's all true. Toronto is going to find him a far more formidable opponent than he was last time." Brand quirked his eyebrows when Jones looked up at him. "That means FP might not be our only secret weapon, kid."

"I know. We have FBI backup, too. Somewhere." Jones was watching Brand carefully for tells, but he leaned back in disappointment a moment later when Brand gave him a knowing look.

"I only meant you, Jones. Now, there is one other possibility we need to prepare for," Brand continued casually. It was time they talked about the very real likelihood that Rose would insist on keeping Jones as a 'guest' for a few days, as a show of good faith.

"It's not all bad, but it might seem a little scary if it happens. So let's talk through this tonight, all three of us."

When the Joneses looked up at him expectantly, Brand turned to get plates from the cabinet. Food usually helped with this sort of thing.

**00000**

**Undercover work involving multiple competing agendas never did run smooth...? :) **

**I hope you have a lovely weekend! And as always, your reviews will be a great encouragement to me as (wow) my eyes miiiight be bigger than my capacity to fit all of the plot into an elegant shape. Effort will be made, though, and I've got some momentum. Chapter eighteen is already starting to come together... :-D**

**Thank you for reading! Take care and be well!**

**-Button**


	18. Chapter 18

**Little known fact: this is likely the final story in the series because of Actual Reasons (sigh) and not in any way a sane person's decision to conclude gracefully (which doesn't sound like me at all! :-D). So, since I decided to throw the kitchen sink into this story(!), we might just have a few chapters popping up here and there between my now-regular Saturday updates before things IRL go nutso and affect my ability to write. :)**

**(and so here I am, before anyone has shared a review of chapter seventeen, just hoping you liked it and that nobody saw something amiss, confusing, or had a comment/observation that would have been SUPER USEFUL before this chapter went up... because I've really come to rely on you all! :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button **

**00000**

FP didn't want to put Jughead through a whole 'off to war' goodbye, so he cooked a hearty breakfast of French toast to occupy them all and made a point of taking Trigger out for a walk when Jughead and Brandon were heading down toward the waterfront for a second tourist outing.

The distraction tactics didn't make FP feel less tense, but the setup seemed to call less attention to the occasion for Jughead, so that was a win.

"I'll text you pictures." Jughead held up his phone as they parted in front of the apartment building. "Love you, Dad."

Brandon and FP had relented on some of the phone restrictions, so long as Jughead promised not to text anyone other than them and kept his GPS off. Honestly, FP had felt a strong urge to get him a gun when he'd heard about the events of the previous day, but that was so far removed from the projection they were attempting with Rose as to be wildly unsafe.

"I love you too, Jug. Have fun." FP gave his son a hug and impulsively patted Brandon on the shoulder in a gesture meant to wish him good luck.

He'd just have to believe that Jughead was up to the challenge, and that Brandon would continue to be the violently protective force of nature on whom he and Jughead had come to rely.

And when he thought about it that way, for some reason FP did feel a little better.

**00000**

It was Thursday afternoon. Jughead's freak collapse had been on Tuesday morning, and Fred had hoped - expected - to hear more from FP by now.

Archie had received a couple of brief texts from Jughead on Wednesday evening that contained only emotional content about missing school, friends, and interning and not any news or updates. It sounded like so far the travelers had learned very little from the specialists that they'd consulted with.

Nothing in the texts had given any indication of how they were doing in close quarters either, though Jughead could not have been in the middle of too much strife: he'd included a photo of Trigger lying on a pull-out couch and another photo of a stretch of water reflecting an incredible sunset.

Fred felt only slightly devious when he asked Archie to forward him the small image file of the water so that he could enlarge it and confirm his suspicion about the wavy reflection of a building: the three had apparently gone to Toronto to seek another medical opinion.

That did not make a whole lot of sense given the ins and outs of the medical coverage FP had through Andrews Construction, but cost and copays were probably not their top concern right now; no doubt Brandon had some sort of a connection that they were leveraging.

All the same, Fred couldn't help but think that Jughead must be feeling a lot of pressure, and that if Archie's assessment held even a sliver of the true explanation for his best friend's weight loss and condition, that the whole trip had potential for being in the process of imploding. Those three were increasingly stable by all accounts, but this was a sort of stress that could make even the strongest family unit experience serious fracturing.

Mary was arriving in Riverdale on Friday to help Archie sort out the ever-growing lineup of offers and requests for appearances, and she had made some noises about consulting with a colleague who could advise them on managing Archie's online presence. His music threatened to go viral at any moment, which delighted the young band - and made Fred profoundly nervous.

There was a lot to keep Fred at home. He felt compelled to focus not only on his son, but also on navigating the continued disruptions to Andrews Construction as they slowly tried to get back to a normal schedule after the Southside High debacle.

But there was also the undeniable fact that Mary would not likely be in town again for a while. This was a rare opportunity for Fred to show some of the support he'd been wanting to demonstrate, by traveling to be with Jughead and FP - and, secondarily, with Brandon - for a couple of days.

Fred texted FP. 'I'm working through arrangements with Andrews Construction for the weekend. Do you have a few minutes to talk?'

When his phone rang in his hand, Fred nearly dropped it.

Apparently FP was available to talk.

**00000**

It had been another gorgeous day, and Brand had enjoyed scurrying after Jones from vantage point to vantage point, admiring the Toronto skyline and appreciating the much-reduced crowds on the islands. They'd sat together by the water and discussed FP and his efforts to understand what neither of them could fully articulate about their months living in Toronto through the previous winter.

Brand had suggested that, once they'd resolved things with Rose and successfully pulled off the bust, they take a couple of hours before heading home in order to try showing FP around the row home and Jones' radius of territory from those months. It would give FP a better mental image of how circumscribed the kid's existence had been, and probably give them both a better foundation for pushing back against the two overriding impressions that FP clearly vacillated between: that Jones and Brand had led an idyllic home life, or that they had been barely surviving in some kind of wildly violent saloon type of setting.

FP seemed unable to picture - or accept - that they'd developed a somewhat dysfunctional, but only mildly stressful daily pattern that was punctuated by an escalating series of crises that had left both Jones and Brand reeling and adjusting - often without any clue about what the long-term effects of their individual decisions might be.

Jones had been enthusiastic and hopeful about that plan, and he'd described a park that he wanted to show FP. He also thought it might be important for his father to see the basement gym that their new home's basement handily eclipsed with its superior size and equipment. The kid was probably right; FP understood competition, and would be pleased by winning that one.

When Brand looked over at Jones now, though, as they walked slowly through the city blocks toward Rose's house, he had a hard time even picturing in his memory the animated expressions and unguarded energy that the kid had brought to each topic of conversation and each new view of the city and islands. Jones had worked hard to develop a talent for blocking out the unpleasant until he needed to face it.

Now they both had to face it, and Brand was actively fighting his own rising tension - but it was nothing like what the kid was clearly wrestling against.

Jones looked like he was walking death row.

It made some sense. As far as Brand could recall, Jones had fallen into a number of bad situations, but this was his first experience walking into one with his eyes wide open to the danger.

Well, they didn't have much time left for encouragement and admonishments. Brand decided to jump right in.

"If I have to leave you, try not to act too scared. It tends to be like... waving a red flag at some of these types." Brand thought for a moment. "But don't ever forget that you're a hostage, either, no matter what anyone says about your being a 'guest.' And as a hostage, your full-time job is to make your survival the path of least resistance for Rose."

Jones was nodding, but his expression was almost frozen with fear.

"If I leave you, I'll be back for you. Never forget that, no matter what happens. You keep yourself in one piece for me, and I will be back for you." Brand's forehead knit. "Hopefully, though, I won't need to leave you behind in the first place."

Jones looked away and then back up at Brand before he nodded again.

"Can I hear that in words, Jones?"

"Don't let him hurt Dad."

"I won't, killer. That's a big part of why we're here." Brand pulled Jones into a tight hug. "You just keep thinking about your dad, and before you know it you'll have pulled this off. I'll have you home where you belong, and Rose will be long gone."

"Okay." The kid clung to Brand as though he'd been drowning and his godfather was the only thing keeping his head above water.

"Everyone's rooting for you, and we all have your back." Brand closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds as he held his godson. "I get first crack at getting you out, but you were right in guessing that we have backup. The FBI's going to stick close. And your dad's not going to give any of us much time before he's in the middle of things with his shotgun."

"I know. I've got this, Brand." Jones loosened his grip slightly, and Brand gave the kid's spine a quick rub.

"Good. Then let's do this and go home."

They continued down the sidewalk, and Rose's large home came into view. Jones squared his shoulders and Brand felt himself relax into his action mode.

They were ready.

**00000**

"Have you thanked Brandon? This is an immense privilege; I've never traveled with anyone with whom I was not romantically involved, and certainly this trip is far more for you than for him." Rose gave Jughead an imperious stare.

It was really hard to tell if this was going well or terribly.

"Oh, yeah." Jughead had to concentrate on not stuttering out his responses. "I've been really glad he offered. I felt so badly about the whole amusement park thing, and then he-,"

"He's doing some work here, yes, but that's no more than his job. I'm talking about the trips around the city. High-priced tickets to the best views and, I have no doubt, the best cuisine Toronto has on offer. You have a lovely camera, too, which Brandon must have supplied?"

"My, uh, friend got it for me. Brand got me this lens, though. It's great - and versatile -, and I've been using it for-,"

"You've certainly come to resemble Brandon since I last saw you. You're chattier than I seem to recall."

Jughead's mouth snapped shut.

Brand smiled proudly, though. "I don't ask for much, Rose, but having an opportunity to pass on my experience, skills, and personality traits is the great privilege of being human. You know, he moves just like me when he fights, and his analysis is going to be first rate once he's gotten that prefrontal cortex fully grown. Another man might not like to look in the mirror, but I'm liable to get vain with such a high-end younger model looking back at me."

Rose laughed. "Well, Brandon. You haven't asked for anything else, it's true. And I sometimes think that you could dine on your vanity and never feel hungry again."

Jughead didn't think that sounded like a compliment, but Brand looked at Rose as if it was the most flattering thing he'd ever been told.

"I do aim to back up my self-conception with action, it's true. And you know what they say about accurate self-assessment when one truly is great. It looks and sounds a lot like bragging."

"'Great' as evidenced by your living mirror, I have no doubt?" Rose included Jughead in his smile this time. "That may well be the case. I have been puzzled by your unwillingness to even consider a substitute, whether it was for that dog or the boy, but I suppose the raw materials need to be there in the right proportions."

"Hey, don't forget: attachment is a feature, not a bug." Brand said the words as though he'd said them many times before to Rose, in precisely the same context. "I don't get attached too much to too many things, and I hate to waste it when I do."

"And on that we'll have to agree to disagree," Rose said firmly, his expression darkening for a moment before it cleared again just as quickly. "I predicted weakness, though, and you've admittedly shown nothing but strength. I am a fair man, and you will have what you want."

Brand's expression did not change then, but Jughead caught his eye for a fleeting moment and could tell instantly that that unassuming declaration was it: they were officially in the clear for phase one of their plan. Rose had forgiven Jughead, or maybe he'd just agreed to indulge Brand in his pet project - though perhaps 'pet' was the more accurate term, given the way they talked about him -, but either way they'd done it.

"You should stay for dinner. I can't have you stay longer, not tonight, but I'd be a terrible host if I didn't feed you."

And there was the next step. As simply as that, another success.

Jughead felt like he was going to be sick with relief. He would not be staying as a 'guest' after all; he could leave with Brand and not be alone with Rose for even one minute.

Brand caught his eye again and Jughead was further encouraged when he could see his godfather's relief plainly. It was all going to be okay.

And then Rose explained why they had to leave after dinner.

And Jughead knew that nothing would ever be okay again.

**00000**

FP clipped Trigger's lead to his collar for another walk. The dog had been carrying a tennis ball around the small apartment for the past thirty minutes or so, and it didn't take a professional dog trainer to figure out that meant he craved stimulation.

Jughead and Brandon would probably be exhausted when they got home, too, and not in any shape to take Trig for a run.

A walk would also distract FP from the possibility - remote though Brandon had described it as being - that there would only be the two adults in the apartment tonight.

When Trigger almost jerked the leash out of his hands, FP was grateful for something to focus on as he commanded the dog to heel and enjoyed the fruits of Jughead's painstaking labors. Trigger was a very responsive dog so long as he had clear expectations to meet, and FP had been subjected to plenty of Jughead's miniature tutorials on how to communicate effectively with the dog.

It had also been a pleasant distraction catching up with Fred, who had some fool notion in his mind about traveling to 'support' them while Jughead was 'diagnosed.' Keeping things vague and open-ended was not particularly challenging, since Fred was unfailingly polite and more worried than meddling by nature. And it had been nice to hear his voice, and even to have an opportunity to give voice to his fears about losing Jughead - having no control in the situation - and having to trust others to give his boy what he needed in order to survive.

They'd been having two entirely different conversations, but Fred Andrews truly had a knack for saying the right thing. FP appreciated that immensely, and had also appreciated Fred's directive to pass along to Jughead his good wishes for a successful trip.

Once he'd locked up the apartment, FP pulled on the baseball cap Brandon had told him to wear if he was out and about during daylight hours. They were intentionally based in a part of Toronto that Rose had no interest in - far away from his house and dealings - but taking the extra precaution felt good. It felt like something FP could do, anyway.

FP dropped his eyes to his phone one last time before beginning the walk. Jughead had texted him a number of photos, including a picture that Brandon must have taken of him on one of the islands, with the Toronto skyline spreading out behind him. Jughead was grinning and giving the phone camera an exuberant thumbs-up gesture.

Hopefully that would be precisely what he did in person, in just a few hours, when he was safely back and step one of the plan was completed. FP shoved his phone into his pocket, resolving to mentally prepare himself for that outcome.

After all, the last thing Jughead needed was the tall order of reassuring his father and managing FP's emotions after a day like this. Maybe Trigger was not the only one who would benefit from a good run and settling in for a lower-energy evening that allowed Jughead and Brandon more space to react to their own stressful day.

FP found even that idea heartening. It was one more thing that he could do.

**00000**

"This way. Come on." Brand was trying to steer Jughead toward the restroom to wash up before dinner, but a strange movement had caught his eye.

"Hang on. What's-,"

"_Now_, Jones." Brand had obviously already figured out what was going on, but he was just a millisecond too slow to prevent Jughead from moving to where he could see into the adjacent hall.

Jughead's eyes widened when he saw a smaller human being herded down the hallway.

The boy was hooded, just like Jughead had been when he'd been kidnapped in Toronto, and his shoulders were hunched as if he were waiting for blows to rain down on him. Jughead assumed that his arms were restrained, since his wrists clearly overlapped behind his back, but both his hands and any bindings were obscured by the long sleeves of his sweatshirt bunching up behind him.

The man guiding the blinded boy roughly by one elbow gave Brand a smile and a nod as if there was nothing at all noteworthy about him manhandling a helpless prisoner around the property.

Jughead swallowed hard. He could feel the tightening of a zip tie around his own neck and recall the taste of the fabric gag that had dried his mouth out so horribly over hours of panting for the weak stream of oxygen he'd been able to manage. Jughead couldn't tell if the hood on this kid's head was airtight, or how securely it was gathered around his neck, but he could see the smaller teen's chest working with the effort to bring in enough air.

Without realizing he was doing so, Jughead moved to follow the two down the hallway.

And then he was jerked backward.

"That's it. Go home." Brand had grabbed Jughead's arm tightly. "I'll follow you when we're done, but this is way above your pay grade. Go. Take the subway; nobody's going to touch you in this town now that you've been to see Rose. Text for someone to meet you." They both knew he meant FP.

Jughead nodded jerkily, trying to get his mind to let go of what he knew was happening in this very house.

"Go. I'll make excuses with Rose; you heard straight from him that he's fine with my handling you from now on, so don't even think twice about that. It was _already _beyond the pale for him to even tell you about-," Brand broke off in frustration, clearly recalling that this was not the time or place to rail against Rose. "He's being too careless with you. This is unacceptable. I want you to... I don't know, curl up with your dog until you feel safe. This is not your fight, and this is _not _something that will ever happen to you; I promise you that. I'll be a few hours behind you at most."

"Brand-,"

"There's nothing for it. Go now." Brand gave Jughead a pitying look. "This is not something you should ever have seen."

Jughead thought it was more than a little late for that. He broke away from Brand and headed toward the front door, feeling mechanical and almost like he was disconnected from his own body's actions.

And then everything snapped sharply into focus, and he knew what he had to do. Jughead hoped that he could still get into the townhouse; he was pretty sure that the rest of this he could pull off, as long as he was quick - and quiet.

**00000**

Once he was outside, Jughead made his way toward the only dark window on the first floor that seemed to be close to where he'd seen the boy.

It wouldn't do to get caught breaking into Rose's house. Jughead also figured it was quite likely that nobody would leave a light on for a hooded prisoner. He hoped that his hunch would pay off, but either way this was his most promising point of entry.

Jughead wasn't sure what to do when he found that the window was locked.

Breaking it wasn't an option, and Brand had never taught him how to unlock a window. It might not be a teachable skill, even.

Then the window lit up right in front of his face.

Jughead dropped to the ground, hoping with all of his heart that he had not been spotted.

Seconds ticked by, and there were some small sounds of movement in the room - and then the window opened slightly. It sounded like the screen was being raised as well. A strong smell of cigarette smoke washed over Jughead, and he realized with a start that someone was sneaking a smoking break in Rose's house.

That was not an employee who was likely to last long.

Or maybe it was not a regular in Rose's household. It might be that people who transported prisoners didn't know the rules of the house, or how scary Rose could be. Jughead was suddenly hopeful.

When only the window closed and he did not hear the lock mechanism engage, he was even more hopeful.

The light in the room went out.

Jughead waited a few moments and then slowly slid the screen further up and eased the window open. He was slipping into the room and letting his eyes adjust within the space of just a few more heartbeats, and he began to move toward the hallway to try and figure out where the kidnapped boy was being held.

And then he heard a small, kitten-like whimper.

The surge of instinct, panic, and adrenaline that suddenly washed through Jughead left him dizzy, and somehow moved him across the room to clap a hand over the boy's hooded face before he was fully aware of what he was doing. The prisoner had been left in the dark after all, with his bound arms cuffed to a fancy wooden armchair.

He was obviously not meant to be left here for long. Jughead suddenly had visions of the smoker taking a bathroom break. There might only be scant seconds remaining before they were discovered.

The boy whimpered a second time, insistently and with no small amount of fear.

"Shhh. Come on. We have to be quick." Jughead leaned over the chair and pulled the back of the boy's head against his chest so that he could clamp his left hand over the kid's mouth and free up his right hand to fish out his pocket knife. The boy began to make more small, frightened noises under his hand, so Jughead gripped his nose tightly as well and choked off the sounds as best he could. "You have to be _quiet_. I'm here to help."

Thankfully he had a lot of practice with handcuffs, courtesy of Brand and Clark, so even wielding the knife in one hand Jughead had the cuffs opened and both of them stumbling toward the open window before he had to worry about whether he might accidentally suffocate the smaller teen.

"We're going out the window. Stay quiet. I'm going to take off your blindfold and try to get your arms free." Jughead used his knife to slash at the cords holding the hood in place. Leaving it on the floor of the room seemed like the best plan; they didn't want a trail of breadcrumbs left behind them in the night.

The boy had a cloth gag tied into his mouth, and Jughead pulled it down around his neck before he slid the teen's sweatshirt sleeves up. There were several zip ties securing the boy's wrists to his opposite elbows and strapping his forearms together, which explained the strange visual of his sweatshirt sleeves bunching up and completely covering his hands.

Jughead made short work of the tough plastic and then began tugging the teenager out the window as quickly and quietly as he could manage.

Soon they were standing on the lawn, and Jughead began plotting a course that would keep them out of the light streaming from the house itself, and also away from the ambient city light as much as possible. They could do this.

The boy coughed once, so Jughead clamped his hand down over the teen's face again and began dragging him away from the house. He found himself murmuring reassuring things that did not entirely make sense.

"You're okay. Just stay quiet; we'll be out of here in no time. Nobody's going to hurt you. We're going to get you home, wherever that is. I didn't mean to scare you. You're okay. I promise you'll be okay."

It would all have been more convincing coming from someone who wasn't forcibly holding the teen's mouth shut and debating whether he needed to cut off his air entirely - just until they were a little further away - to keep them safe in the darkness.

Jughead tried not to think about that, though, as he continued muttering to the teen. "You're going to be fine. I've got you. Just breathe. Shhhhh."

When the teen planted his feet and bucked against his grip, now entirely silent but clearly panicking, Jughead abruptly realized that he had already cut off the boy's air without realizing it. He adjusted his grip swiftly, horrified by his own mistake, and winced when he felt and heard desperate lungfuls of air whistling past his fingers through the boy's nose.

This was all turning out to be a little more complicated than he'd imagined.

**00000**

**...As life often will insist on being. :) I hope you are well, and that you enjoyed! As always, I will love hearing your thoughts, and I'll be much encouraged by hearing from you while working on chapter nineteen!**

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	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen! **

**And thank you very much for the good wishes. It's actually good news taking me away from writing for the foreseeable future... medical possibilities becoming reality, a big procedure, and then months of recovery/adapting - and then new expectations for the rest of my life. In a good way. But also a "my life is going to look very different" way, and the last time that sort of thing happened (which was bad and seemed to come out of nowhere) I was absent from updating BCBC for ages. I am trying to plan since I have the chance this time, and hopefully I can return to writing when I am able to be on a timetable that's sane and logical (maybe :). I'll be around, though, and reading!**

**Skyrider45, thanks so much for your review! Real life, right? And I am glad I made the decision to just keep Fred; he's too beloved for real life to intrude too far in this story, but I'm with you on missing him. :( And yes, FP is definitely effective just being himself. :) I've been enjoying the arc for him this story, and how it's subtler (he's already come so far!) but still very present. It made me so sad to hear that the end is palpable, even though that is intentional and I am glad it's feeling the way it should. :) Yay that Jug's growing up! Taking on the Brand role! (and remembering that's not entirely positive! :-D) If you were able to guess the way-too-much I've got planned for the upcoming chapters, I'd be very afraid, actually... We'll see more pieces coming together over this chapter and next, though. :) I'll look forward to your thoughts very much!**

**Living Lucid Dream, thank you for the lovely reviews! It was reassuring to hear that the plan (which is too complicated, both as far as Jughead can see and in my opinion - good thoughts, Brand, but yikes!) at least hangs together on paper. This one is a juggling act. :) And I think that writing/posting more swiftly is going to be a relief because I started eyeing the calendar and realizing my eyes were too big for my timeframe IRL - and I also love the distraction factor of writing more. Options included: massive chapters, multiple posts per week, or cutting plot points. I decided that pacing the chapters with reasonable length was best, and 'cutting plot points' was (obviously! :-D) unthinkable. Awww, I couldn't leave Clark behind, and I'm excited about having everyone get to do stuff; I loved your comment about Brand bringing ice cream home for FP. :) I'm also loving having Fred around more (I've missed him almost as much as FP has!), and yes... out the window, bahaha... :-D I hope you enjoy as the intensity sort of comes in waves (maybe?) as we keep moving forward! :-D**

**Enjoy!**

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**00000**

"You have to let me go back - they'll kill me if-,"

"I was kidnapped too. Last year," Jughead said quietly, urgently, wishing he wasn't having to force the smaller teenager to move, stumbling haltingly along the sidewalk. "I get it. You don't think you have anywhere to go or anyone who can help you. But I have a family, and they kind of specialize in this. You can-,"

The teenager swung hard at his midsection, and even though Jughead dodged his fist easily he was disconcerted.

"I'm _saving _you. We're going to get you help so you never have to see Rose or anyone who works for him ever again. Where are you from?"

"Let me go. I have to get back before anyone realizes I'm gone."

"No." Jughead frowned deeply. "Are you American? Canadian? Do you have a family? I can call them-,"

"I'll kill you."

Jughead snorted and he pulled the teen along more quickly. "Sure you will. You and whatever army you can recruit on short notice?"

"You don't understand-,"

"I do understand. You think you don't have options, but you do. I'm _giving _you options. I'm going to get you to a real army of people who can help you. Now stop fighting me and march."

Jughead suddenly had more sympathy for Brand's methods during their early days of living together. Not that he was going to hurt this kid - or tie him up. Hopefully.

The teen ducked forcefully and tore free, running back toward Rose's house.

Jughead grabbed him before he'd made it three paces away and put the teen's right arm into a tight submission hold.

"You're coming with me. Now stop all of this before you get us both killed. We'll talk more when we get there, but for now you're going to stop fighting me, stop arguing with me, and stop trying to escape. Otherwise I'm going to, um-," Jughead thought quickly, "I'm going to tell Rose that I caught you trying to escape. And I'll make sure you never walk again."

There. That sounded like something Brand would say - maybe even had said - and it had certainly scared Jughead into submission in the past.

The kid gave one frantic, experimental tug against the hold before his eyes widened.

"Yeah. It doesn't feel so good, does it?" Jughead twisted his wrist slightly for emphasis, and the teen had to move with him to avoid injury. "I'm not going to hurt you if you cooperate. Don't test my control, though - not unless you're real sure how things are going to end."

The teen nodded submissively, fearfully, and began hurrying to keep up with Jughead's quick pace.

Jughead felt new horror spring up in himself when he recognized the return of the teen's body language from inside of Rose's house. Jughead didn't have a choice, though: he needed to get them both to the townhouse. Alive.

**00000**

When Brand got back to the apartment, he wasn't sure who was more shocked. FP was up and grabbing him before he was fully in the door, looking behind him frantically for Jones, even though Brand was obviously trying to get past FP to get to the kid and have a chat about everything that had occurred with Rose.

They both began talking at once.

"_No_. Dom can't have kept him. Where-,"

"Jones should have been here _hours _ago-,"

"_What_?" FP reared back, apparently having heard what Brand said over his own sputtering. "I haven't seen him. Or heard from him. Why aren't you together? What did you do _this_ time?"

"I don't know!" Brand had to agree, though: this was definitely his fault. "I told him to text you. Take the subway back. Things were getting weird - although they actually went well -, and I thought he'd be safe-,"

"Are you _insane_? Someone tried to grab him from the waterfront yesterday!" FP's voice was raw with panic and fury. "Where do we start?"

"Phone." Brand pulled out his own and FP followed suit. "Text him, then call him, and- wait, I have a text. It just came in a few minutes ago."

"Me too."

FP and Brand looked up at each other, and this time they were on the same page: deeply skeptical.

"Does this sound remotely legit to you?" FP asked, hesitating.

"No. But we have nothing better to go on. It came from his phone, and we were a lot closer to the townhouse when I sent him home."

"Why on earth would he wait this long, and why would he go there?" FP looked at the text again. "Something's wrong."

"Yeah, no kidding." Brand rubbed the back of his neck. "Lock the dog up and grab some stuff. Three minutes and we're out of here, but let's at least have ammo and the ability to set up shop wherever we find the kid."

"Make it two minutes. And tell me what happened with Dom." FP was already grabbing stuff and shoving it into a backpack. "Hurry."

Brand filled him in.

**00000**

The townhouse was dark and locked. It looked like the text must have been a lie, and if so that meant they'd been distracted - delayed - while someone might have used that time to get out of the city with Jones.

They went inside, and it was only more disheartening when the lights were switched on. It looked like nobody had been here for quite some time. But the text had said that Jones was in his room, so they'd check there before drawing any conclusions.

Brand took the stairs two at a time, and even so FP had one hand pressed between his shoulder blades, urging him to move more quickly.

They burst into Jones' old room, and when the light switch did nothing - the room remained lit only by the moonlight through the window -, the many quotes written on the plain wallpaper seemed to shift eerily on the walls.

"He's not here." FP stumbled further into the room, and anger warred with panic in his tone. "Brandon, he's-,"

"We're here, Dad. Brand." Jughead's voice emanated shakily from the shadowed alcove he'd long since converted from a closet by removing its door. "We're right here."

"What do you mean, 'we'?" Brand started fumbling for the lamp. The light switch was turned on, so if he could just find the pull chain on the lamp he could get some light into the room. "Are you okay, kid?"

"I kidnapped someone, Brand." Jughead's voice was suddenly filled with tears. "Can I get in trouble for that? If they were already kidnapped?"

FP started fumbling toward the closet in the dark. "You _what_?"

"He rescued someone, FP." Brand had a terrible flash of clarity, just as his hand found the lamp's chain. He pulled it, and light spilled over the room - and the situation. "Jones rescued someone who didn't want to be rescued. And probably with good reason."

Sure enough, there were two teenage boys huddled on the closet floor. Both were looking up fearfully at Brand and FP.

"This is not going to make our mission any easier." Brand rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shut up, Brandon." FP moved to the closet and crouched to pull Jughead into a hug. "You did the right thing, Jug. I would have given anything for someone to bring you home to me when it was you who was missing. We'll figure this out together."

"We're gonna have to." Brand's tone was dry, but he softened when he met Jughead's worried gaze over FP's shoulder. "It'll be okay. You only made the same decision I did about you, kid. Sometimes it's worth the risk."

Jones allowed his father to tug him out of the closet and up to sit on the bed.

Brand moved closer to the teen left sitting in the closet.

"What's your name?" Brand figured they'd better start off simply.

"Max."

"Last name?"

Max gave him a defiant look and did not answer.

"Where are you from? Any family?" Brand knew that the odds-on bet was that this was a kid for whom nobody was looking. But he had to ask.

"He's scared, Brand. And we're hungry." Jones spoke for Max, and Brand realized he was going to have to explain to the kid why that wasn't a good idea. They needed Max to speak for himself, and to share information as he was able - and willing. "Can we get pizza?"

"I'll have a couple of pizzas delivered." Brand nodded decisively. "Nobody is stepping one foot outside of this house until this is resolved. How long were you with Rose?"

Silence. Another defiant expression.

"He's tired. I had to _force _him to come here." Jones sounded heartbroken over what he'd done. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do."

When Max perked up and gave Jones a reassessing look, Brand's heart sank. That was the face of someone who had just identified an easy mark.

"Hey, come order the pizza with me, kid." Brand stood up and backed away from Max. "FP, we're going to hole up here in the townhouse while we sort this out. I'll make a phone call about Trigger so that he's covered, and I've got some trail cams for home security that I never got around to mounting, so you and I can put those up indoors. Let's start with my bedroom and the downstairs area, so we can start those recording to the cloud tonight. Can you pull out sheets and towels and put Max to work on laundry?"

FP looked from Jones to Brand, clearly trying to figure out what he'd missed.

"These two got to know each other." Brand hoped that was enough of a clue. "Let's see that the whole wolf pack has a chance to get to know Max. We'll be together for at least a day or two, so let's get friendly and learn what we can about each other. I think everyone benefits from a little footage that we can all review in case of conflict, too."

The small teen looked up sharply at Brand, and it would not have seemed out of place had he bared his teeth in aggression. Brand met his gaze evenly.

"He can bunk in with me for now. I'll make sure nothing bad happens to him." Brand bared his own teeth in a grin that promised every ounce of the aggression that he was prepared to unleash if Max decided to go after Jones in any way.

When Max looked away, petulant but not cowed, Brand knew he'd read the signals correctly.

"Is that okay, Max? I have a friend you might meet, Agent Sarah. She knows all about helping people who were kidnapped. She used baby monitors, but she said the same thing about me feeling safer when everyone had accountability for their actions. It's nice when you don't know people yet, and there's always privacy in, like, the bathrooms," Jones explained.

Brand blinked; he'd gotten the tip from Sarah as well, along with a slightly more CYA-themed explanation. It made sense that the kid had experience with it from debriefing, and it was also just like him to think that Brand was doing this solely to set Max's mind at ease.

"Do you like pizza?" Jones continued encouragingly. "Brand is really... Well, you'll like rooming with him. He'll definitely keep you safe, and he doesn't snore as much as _some _people around here."

FP did not respond to the teasing dig; he was watching Max closely. Good. He'd caught at least part of Brand's message then.

"I can find the good blankets after dinner. Do you want something for white noise? Disrupted sleep can be one of the more challenging parts of recovery." Jones was still talking, and now he sounded like he was quoting someone else.

Brand and FP waited to see if Max would reply, but he remained silent.

"You know what, I'm just going to build you a nest in Brand's room since we don't have a cot here. We'll watch something on my laptop and then have pizza. Oh, and I'll get you a stash of protein bars. That way if you wake up hungry, you'll be all set. We still have some here, right, Brand?"

Brand nodded. It occurred to him that if this was all coming from Jones' experience during debriefing, then Sarah probably deserved a raise.

"I think I've got some clothes in a box in the attic, too. It's stuff I didn't wear much, but there should be enough for you and me to wear for a few days. You can keep anything you like, and that way you won't have to change back into these clothes again if you don't want to. Do you like to read? My books aren't here anymore, but Brand's are and he's got some good ones." Jones looked up at Brand. "Can Max pick out a few books to keep?"

"Uh, yeah. Run them by me first, but that's probably fine." Brand was puzzled by the request, but he figured it only made sense; Max would not be in the townhouse for long enough to finish reading a book of any length.

"Good. I'll need a bag, too, so Max can keep his stuff in one place." Jones nodded thoughtfully. "We had some cloth bags in the basement."

Aha. Brand was suddenly getting the picture. Jones wanted to make sure Max had something of his own that he could hold on to. "Yeah, you can give him one or two of the tote bags to hold his stash."

"Come on, Max. The laundry machines are downstairs." Jones motioned for the smaller teenager to come out from the closet. "My dad is really nice. He has a motorcycle and he likes peanut butter."

FP gave Jones a weird look. "Is that how you usually describe me to people?"

"No." Jones shrugged. "I'm just saying-,"

"I'm sure Max can figure it out. FP's a simple guy." Brand grabbed Jones by the shoulder and tugged him up and toward the door of the bedroom. "Let the new kid get a word in edgewise."

"Okay." Jones looked back at Max one last time. "Let me know if you need anything."

Max nodded, and Jones was finally satisfied.

Brand figured he'd better get Sarah on the phone as soon as possible.

**00000**

Being 'read in' had been a strange combination of enlightening and frustratingly vague.

Clark was told repeatedly that it was a great honor and vote of confidence, that he was to be hired on full-time if all went well, and that everyone had the utmost of faith in him.

And then he was given what was quite obviously the 'intern' version of the case. It sucked.

So they were in Toronto in an apartment, Agents Quinn and Williams had places to go and information to gather, and Clark was on scut work. Not even real scut work: it looked to him like it was generously about two hours' worth of work per day.

"Just do it well, Clark. Check it four times to make it eight hours of excellent work instead of two hours of shoddy work. This is _important_, and nobody's going to have time to look over your shoulder," Williams said when Clark inquired about what he was supposed to do with the rest of the day. The two agents would not even be back in time for dinner.

"Chloe. I think Clark's already being generous; he could do this work perfectly in under an hour." Agent Quinn was a lot more sympathetic. "You should study, go for a walk and explore, and just take in the city. Nobody knows you here, so you don't have to worry about being identified as FBI. Keep your cellphone on and with you at all times, and if we have more for you we'll tell you right away. But you're here to observe more than work, so you really don't have a lot of responsibilities. We'll hopefully have more for you to do tomorrow."

Clark nodded. It all felt severely anticlimactic, and even the portions of the arrangement that had seemed dramatic and highly tense - FP and Jones being in Toronto with Davies for unknown reasons - were being ignored entirely. In fact, everyone was acting as though Jones and FP were _not_ with Davies, and were instead seeking medical care for Jones' admittedly worrying weight loss.

That made a tiny bit of sense: Clark knew that was the story Jones' friends had been told. Nevertheless, the fact that anyone in the FBI was now pretending that was reality seemed insane to him.

However, Quinn had made it abundantly clear that, as far as Clark was concerned, that was the only reality that he was to believe, let alone speak of. And, ideally, it was a reality that he would never even speak of - not with anyone other than Quinn and Williams -, since telling anyone in Toronto that FP and Jones were around might be problematic.

What a weird, weird adventure this was turning out to be.

The other piece Clark was having trouble squaring was everyone's insistence that nothing at all had anything to do with the Southside High case. That had actually come from Wilson herself, and seemed to be less an artifact of Clark being an intern (he was clearly not getting the whole story) than some of the other bizarre gaps.

And okay, Clark understood that he was likely being hired by the FBI because he brought something to the table. It wasn't so crazy that he might see a connection that others had missed. It was just that this one was so obvious, at least to his mind, as to be a conspicuous oversight on everyone else's part: the Southside case had involved the Serpents, a splinter faction that went rogue and had some crazy dealings in Canada, and even though those had been centered more in Montreal, all had known ties to Toronto.

There were a few more pieces, too. FP was at least geographically in the middle of all of this, even if everyone was insisting that he was not officially involved, and his role as FBI asset hinged on his position with the Serpents. The biker gang had a lively contingent based in and around Toronto.

Jones had different ties to Toronto through Davies, obviously, but he'd also spent some time with the Southside criminals that Clark had not been present for.

There was a very real possibility that this whole situation was stemming from the Southside case and not from the bust that Special Agent Davies and 'Jonas' had made in the spring.

Clark couldn't shake the idea.

So, when Quinn and Williams gave him most of the day off, he began considering how he might make contact with the Serpents. He would not mention FP, Davies, the FBI, or anything even remotely related to the case, of course.

Clark would be _unofficially _undercover and just information-gathering. He'd show initiative, but in no way jeopardize the case or the integrity of the FBI or his role. He'd have a beer or two, and that would be that.

And with that in mind, suddenly the whole trip felt like a brand-new adventure.

**00000**

By the next morning, FP was fairly certain that Max had realized that he had a good thing going with Jughead. His cowering around Brand and his skittish body language around FP both had a hint of insincerity - exaggeration, anyway - that Jughead was entirely blind to.

It wasn't that FP didn't believe that Max was traumatized and hurting; he just knew a strategy when he saw one, and Max was _strategically _reacting a little more strongly than seemed entirely natural to the adults in order to keep Jughead glued to his side. It was clever. Maybe it had even kept Max alive in another context.

FP just didn't like that Max had decided that Jughead was his ticket for navigating his way to more stable circumstances.

Right now Jughead was playing a funny video on his laptop and Max was curled up on the couch next to him. It was eerily similar to how Trigger curled up with Jughead, except that Max was carefully maintaining just enough distance to avoid even accidental physical contact.

Jughead's eyes flew up when he realized that FP was watching them from behind the couch, and there was a warning in his expression for his father not to come any closer.

Max let out a nearly inaudible snort of laughter over whatever they were watching, and Jughead's expression softened as he looked at the boy.

FP moved into the kitchen, figuring they were fine. Brandon had been smart to rig cameras around the house right away. And really, as long as Jughead didn't set his sights on anything that Max objected to, it was highly unlikely that the younger boy would do anything to jeopardize the doting attention that Jughead was more than happy to lavish on him.

"Hey." Brandon joined FP in the kitchen and spoke quietly. "I'm breaking up the dynamic duo for a little while after lunch. I'll be training with Jones, so you're on Max detail."

"Okay." FP liked the idea of Jughead having a break, though he had no idea how Max would respond to being left with FP for an hour or two. He glanced back over to the living room, and met Max's eyes peeking over the couch cushions. That was no surprise; Max seemed to have a sixth sense for Brandon's movements around the townhome.

Jughead looked over too, glaring at Brandon this time.

FP had to hide a smile when Brandon crossed his arms and stared both boys down. He objected strenuously to any implication that he was unwelcome in his own home.

"Jones has a big heart. The new kid is an operator." Brand kept his tone low, so that only FP could hear him. "Agent Quinn's picking him up as soon as I figure out how to make the handoff. The faster we do that, the more likely it is that Jones never has to know."

FP wasn't entirely sure what Brandon was getting at, but did not inquire. They were courting enough danger already, just by standing here in the kitchen for this conversation.

"He thinks every kid is him." Apparently Brandon was going to explain, even without prompting. "Ready to _bond _and _heal _at a moment's notice. The new kid's going to bite him the first moment he sees any advantage in it; I'd just as soon skip that conversation with Jones."

Ah. FP did not disagree. He still figured they were shielded here in the townhome from any temptation for Max to turn on Jughead, but Brandon might well have a better read on things.

Jughead reached very tentatively toward Max and brushed his fingers ever so lightly over the younger boy's hair.

FP could see Brandon tensing as they watched this play out.

Max did not react, so Jughead - obviously encouraged - trailed his fingers gently over his hair a second time before withdrawing his hand.

"Want a snack?" Jughead asked.

FP almost laughed aloud; it was possible that Jughead was trying to condition Max, in much the way he had trained Trigger. Max had submitted to affection, and so Jughead would bring him a treat.

Max nodded, not taking his eyes off of the screen when Jughead stood up to get them something to eat.

Jughead broke into a smile as soon as he was behind the couch and out of Max's line of sight. He gave Brandon a smug look and raised his eyebrows proudly toward Max.

Brandon sighed and helped Jughead assemble some cheese and crackers on a plate. He tousled Jughead's hair and gave him a quick hug before he handed him the plate.

Once the boys were munching contentedly and onto their next video, Brandon muttered very quietly to FP once again: "Yeah. It's better if Jones never knows that he's being played like a fiddle."

This time FP nodded his agreement.

**00000**

Brand sighed when Jones took advantage of the last few steps down into the basement and leapt onto his back. "Do we need to count the ways that's not giving you a strategic advantage?"

"No. I just wanted to." Jones laughed and slid down, releasing his grip on Brand's shoulders.

"You should try that on your father. I think he's worried about you, and seeing you goof off a little might help him loosen up."

"Yeah right. You just want me to attack Dad." Jones smirked.

"That too." Brand returned the smirk.

"So…" Jones was suddenly looking at the wall as if it was fascinating. "I wondered something. About Max."

"I wonder a lot of things about Max," Brand responded agreeably. "What in particular?"

"He doesn't have any family, most likely." Jones' expression made the statement a question.

"If he does, they might not be the best people for him to go home to. So yeah, that may amount to the same thing." Brand wasn't sure where this was going, so he chose his words carefully. "Not everyone's as dedicated as your father when it comes to kicking bad habits and making a nice home for their kid."

"So where will he go?"

"Where were you headed when your father was in prison, before I showed up?" Brand moved toward the middle of the sparring area in the basement, hoping that would encourage Jones to follow. They would both benefit from some time spent burning off nervous energy and stress.

"Exactly."

"Yeah, only I'm not sure what you mean by that." Brand beckoned Jones in closer, seeing that he was still focused on the conversation and not on training. "Get over here and show me that you aren't getting rusty, kid."

"Hang on. I want to ask you something first." Jones suddenly looked unsure of himself. "Could... you and Agent Sarah adopt Max?"

"No." Brand figured this had to be a preamble to whatever the kid actually wanted to ask him. "You know that's not possible. What are you really after, Jones?"

When the kid hesitated, looking awkward, Brand abruptly realized that he'd been serious.

"Hang on. Since when would two colleagues - who have never even dated -, have the option of adopting a teenager together that one of the two has _never met_, with whom they have some measure of professional relationship?" Brand hoped that cleared things up in a hurry.

"But if _you _adopted him, and then you dated Agent Sarah-,"

"I'm not adopting Max." Brand didn't roll his eyes, because something seemed very raw about the kid's whole approach. There was a lot going on here, and Brand was not certain he was seeing even iceberg-tip portions of Jones' thought process. "What's this really about? Are you thinking about us almost lighting off to the territories together?"

"No." Jones' brow furrowed, though, as if he was considering that idea more carefully than he was willing to let on. "Not exactly. It's more that you were there with me when I didn't have Dad, so maybe now that Max needs a home-,"

"He could join the Brand Davies halfway house for troubled young men?" Brand managed a smile. It wasn't that the idea was not flattering. "Well, aside from the issues I already mentioned, I have to actually like someone in order for that to work."

"You don't like Max?" Jones was scandalized.

"Not particularly."

"Well, why not?"

"I'm a guy who needs a reason to like someone, kid. It's not as if I love all teenagers and need a specific reason to be antipathic toward one." Brand shook his head. "I don't need to bring home yet another world of trouble, and I don't think he and I would be a good fit."

"I think you would be. He needs you."

"Need does not equal 'good fit.' And Max needs a good fit. He also needs a whole lot more than I could give anyone," Brand corrected gently. "He's not you, and he's certainly not Clark."

"But Agent Sarah could-,"

"Agent Quinn is not part of any calculation. You can feel free to give her a pitch on adopting Max, and you can even try telling her that she can then date me so that I can be forced to share the responsibility, but you're going to get the same answer. Not a great fit, needs more than she can offer, and so on."

"I don't know why you're so sure that would be her answer." Jones' eyes were narrowed into slits. "_She's_ nice. _She'd _help."

"Well, go right ahead and try her, then. I'm not nice and I'm not going to help."

Brand was not wholly surprised when Jones attacked him then. Apparently it was time to work out some of that stress.

**00000**

Clark was pleased by his day's work, and when Agents Quinn and Williams got back to the apartment that night he was deeply ensconced in his textbooks and typing up a paper.

"Did you have a good day?" Agent Quinn asked as Williams bustled around the apartment, setting things to rights and organizing their small space somewhat compulsively.

"Yeah. Productive." Clark nodded. "I even got out for a little while, and I found a… pub." The word 'bar' suddenly seemed like the wrong impression to give his colleagues, even without the other applicable word: biker.

"Don't drink too much," Williams admonished. "You look like a craft beer guy, so I don't think you're a total lightweight, but it's not a good habit to be in."

"I know," Clark said lightly. "I didn't talk to anyone. I was just looking around."

"That sounds nice," Agent Quinn offered supportively. "We'll have some more for you to do tomorrow, though, so don't get too attached to having free time. Something came up with Davies and we need to go to his apartment."

"Really?" Clark stood up. "When? Tonight?"

"Wow. Chill out." Williams gave Clark a look, but then it dissolved into a smile. "I have to admit I like the attitude, though. We have to go over there tonight, yeah, and deal with some stuff. Davies won't be there, but man does he love to leave a wake of mess-,"

"Williams," Quinn said wearily. "Clark needs to know a little more, now that this is happening."

"Fine, Sarah." Williams dropped the bluster; apparently it had been a cover for what was really going on. Clark suddenly wondered how often she used that technique on him in other contexts. "We have to go pick up a dog because something came up and Davies can't get back to the apartment right now."

Clark blinked. "Wait. Do you mean that we need to go pick up _Trigger_? Come on, you can't pretend that FP and Jones aren't-,"

"It's Trigger, yes, and everyone's fine." Sarah accurately interpreted Clark's strong reaction as worry. "They just need to stay where they are for a night or two, and we need to figure out how to arrange a handoff without actually meeting up with them. Going straight to Davies might be a little too visible, so we need to think this through."

"We're handing off Trigger?"

"Uh... no, actually. It's not us doing the handing off. We're making a pickup." Quinn's expression was sympathetic to Clark's evident frustration at the vagueness of the plan. "I can't tell you more right now, but that's primarily because we might change the plan entirely. If we do go forward, you'll find out a lot more soon enough."

That was going to have to satisfy Clark for now, he supposed. "When are we going to pick up Trigger?"

"Once I figure out how to keep his fur and dander away from all my stuff," Williams said dourly.

Sarah smiled indulgently and began helping Williams move her things into her bedroom. "Sorry, Chloe. It shouldn't be for too long."

**00000**

The knock came again.

"Jones, you knucklehead, did you order take-out without telling anyone?" Brand and FP stood frozen in the living room. It was late on Friday afternoon, and nobody should be knocking on the door of the townhouse. It might be best to just let them give up and move on, but not if someone was expecting to be paid.

"Nope. Why?" The kid came down the stairs two at a time. The knocking came once again, harder.

"Well…" FP gestured toward the door. "Any guesses?"

"I'll go check from upstairs." Jones bounded away, was silent for a few long seconds, and then almost immediately came flying back down the stairs, past the adults, and toward the door.

"Whoa!" Brand intercepted him roughly. "Don't just open the door. Who is it?"

"It's Mr. Andrews!" Jones' expression was alive with delight. "He must have guessed that we'd come here."

"It's Fred? I just talked to him yesterday - and I never told him we were in Toronto." FP looked from Brand to Jones in confusion. "I told him we were doing fine, but that I was… worried. That was all."

"He probably got nervous and went all CSI on your phone call," Jones guessed. "You might have had background noise or something he could identify, Dad. Mr. Andrews is pretty smart."

"I don't think-," FP shook his head doubtfully even as Jones tried to get around him to open the door. "Hey. Stay back from the door, Jughead."

"Yeah, it sounds like he's not even here for you, kid." Brand motioned for FP to answer the door when Fred knocked again - even more loudly, as if perhaps they could not hear him. "You need to keep your mouth shut and remember the cover story we told him. Maybe lie down in your room or on the couch."

"Don't oversell it," FP cautioned. "Jug doesn't really do lying down unless he's seriously under the weather."

"Good point. Go get a snack and stay in the kitchen. That's classic you."

The knocking came yet again. Max was slinking down the stairs now, but staying out of sight of the door.

"It's a friend," Jones said encouragingly, his grin undimmed by the reactions of FP and Brand. "You're safe; don't worry. Come and have a snack with me. You'll like Mr. Andrews."

FP figured it was now or never. He swung open the front door. "Hi, Fred. Come on in. What brings you to Toronto?"

Fred seemed shocked into silence by the upbeat greeting, and he looked from FP to Brand and then beyond them to where Jughead was watching them while he opened a new box of protein bars.

Then Fred stepped into the room toward FP, pulling him into a hug. "Are you all right? Did the meetings go well? You should know better than to go to Toronto without me along for backup. You need friends for this kind of thing. I've been worried about you three. Or... four, I guess?"

FP was still shocked by Fred's sudden appearance on their doorstep, but he returned the hug gratefully and laughed at his friend's words. "Oh. Well. You know. It was really short notice, so I didn't think you'd be able to get away. I have missed you, though. The, uh, meetings were-,"

"Inconclusive," Brand contributed.

"Yeah. Inconclusive." FP made a pained face.

Fred looked pained as well at that news, and when FP stepped back to let him further into the townhome he patted FP's shoulder. "I'm so sorry to hear that. I know you were hoping for answers."

Jones dropped the protein bars on the counter and took a step forward, sensing that it would be okay to approach Fred now that Brand was closing the front door. "I can't believe you came all the way here, Mr. Andrews."

"Of course I did. I was worried." Fred opened his arms and Jughead needed no further prompting to launch into him. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay. It's been a lot, but we're together and that helps." Jughead squeezed Mr. Andrews tightly for a few long moments and then stepped back to motion to Max. "This is Max. He's staying with us for a little while-,"

"It's a favor for Sarah Quinn," Brand interrupted before Jones could make something up that might be problematic. Fred gave him a very surprised look. And somehow that gave Brand an idea. "You know, it's quite possible that you could help. He'll need a ride pretty soon, and it's not too far, but I don't want to leave these two alone." Brand motioned to indicate FP and Jughead.

Fred nodded, clearly making the connection to the attempts on FP's life in Riverdale. "Sure. I'd be more than happy to help. Your name is Max?"

The new kid nodded, eyeing him suspiciously. He picked up a protein bar, opened it swiftly, and shoved half of it into his mouth.

"He doesn't talk much, but he likes cat videos," Jughead offered. "Did Archie come along? He'll have a ton of them."

"He's not in Toronto; he's at home with his mother. I wasn't entirely sure that I'd find you, so I didn't tell him what I was up to." Fred nodded thoughtfully. "Cat videos, huh?"

Max just stared at him, and it occurred to Fred that something about him was eerily reminiscent of Jughead directly after debriefing had concluded. And then he made the connection to Agent Quinn.

"You know what? Cat videos sound great. Let me see what Archie recommends," Fred said with a smile, carefully overlooking Max's odd silence and prolonged eye contact. "I'll text him and ask for links."

"Cool." Jughead gave Max an encouraging look. "Archie always finds the best ones. This should be good."

FP and Brand exchanged glances.

This was wildly unexpected, and Fred's presence might be a boon, but it was clear that they both wanted time and space to talk through how to navigate this next round of changes to the plan.

"Enjoy your videos. FP and I need to see to the other bedroom and get it set up for Mr. Andrews," Brand said.

"Oh, no, I don't need-," Fred caught their expressions then. "I mean, thank you. I'd love to spend the night, and a room sounds great. Let me know if I can help."

"You bet." Brand led FP upstairs.

**00000**

**I wasn't kidding about the kitchen sink. :) And Chapter Twenty should be fun! I'll look forward to hearing your thoughts very much, and to getting more and more into position for the billion and one things I thought might be cool to throw into one story. :-D **

**I hope you're having a lovely weekend!**

**-Button**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty! What more can be said? :)**

**Skyrider45, I love that you're curious about Max. Me too! I think we'll learn more as we go, and hopefully we will see a happy ending for him. Jug is definitely breaking out some of the stops; it was one thing helping Clark, but this is something he's been explicitly wanting to do since YCHT. I love your Clark narration! He is so innocent, yes; we'll see if it helps or hurts! And yay for Fred - and I loved that Archie and cat videos rang true for you as well. :-D Thank you for the review and the good thoughts! Medical anything (and of course non-elective because pandemic) is at least a little scary, but I am optimistic. And... hooray for the kitchen sink being welcomed! :-D**

**Living Lucid Dream, thank you for the good wishes! And I love your assessment of the ways in which Jug is echoing Brand, and where he departs very dramatically. I thought Jug as "coddling" Max in comparison was a great description, and Max as a very different person is an important lesson for Jug - but he's also got a sweet impulse going that Brand and FP are trying to protect/preserve by getting Max to the FBI quickly. They do try to let Jug stay innocent from time to time. :) Clark probably got the most concern from readers last chapter - he's definitely going to get some space to sink or swim. And yay Fred! :-D He's right in the middle of it all, so we'll see how that goes... but it is always such a relief when he walks in. :) I look forward to hearing what you think as things continue to play out!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Clark had been amazed by how much of a relief it was to see Trigger - and also the physical evidence that Jones, FP, and Special Agent Davies had made it successfully to Toronto. They'd even moved their couch into the bedroom, which seemed tactically advantageous.

"Davies is so bizarre," Williams had declared when they noticed the unusual furniture arrangement. "Just when I think he can't possibly get any more paranoid, he does something like this. And brings a _dog_."

Agent Quinn hadn't commented, but Clark thought he saw another reaction entirely when she noticed Jones' SAT prep book lying on the pull-out couch.

It _was _kind of a blazing-neon-sign sort of reminder that things were not as they should be.

They'd headed back to their own larger apartment, and Clark got Trigger settled in his room so that Williams' allergies would be as mildly affected as possible.

And so, on Friday, Clark found that he had more responsibility - caring for Trig - but still a lot of time to kill. Then Quinn texted at seven pm that she and Williams would be back 'late.'

So Clark decided that was his chance to revisit the biker bar.

He followed the same pattern he had before, and ordered a beer and sat down at a table where he could easily overhear conversations. Clark opened a newspaper app on his phone and relaxed, skimming the headlines and sipping contentedly.

"How do you know FP?" A deep voice rumbled in Clark's left ear, causing him to jump.

"What? Who?" Clark set down his beer and sat up straight as an enormous biker pulled up a chair and sat across from him at his small table. "I don't know anyone-,"

"Look. There are two types of Americans who show up in this bar. They're either lost, which means they don't come back a second time, or they've got ties. Nine times out of ten, that means FP." The biker looked even more curious now. "You're clearly not lost; this is your second time here this week."

"Um, well-," Clark was suddenly realizing that showing up without a prepared story was a really dumb move. He wracked his brain.

The biker laughed. "Don't hurt yourself making something up. We'll just leave it at you don't trust me." His eyes narrowed as he considered Clark. "So now you get to know me, and maybe then we'll take it from the top. The name's Banjo. I'm in town from Montreal to oversee some politics. Where are you from?"

"Uh, Buffalo." Clark realized that it would probably be best to lie about that, and it seemed like an innocuous enough city of origin.

"You don't say. You ever meet a kid named Archer?" Banjo leaned back in his seat, getting comfortable. "You look almost as much a fish out of water as he did in the Montreal bar - and mind you, he was underage even in Canada."

"_Archer_?" Clark was too surprised to pretend he'd never heard of him. "You met Archer in a Serpents bar in Montreal?"

"He-ey, you've met him too?" The biker seemed delighted to find a connection. "Redhead, real crazy kid, willing to do or say anything if the bet involves pub fries?"

"Met him? I blew up a building with him," Clark blurted out before realizing that was really, _really _not a helpful thing to reveal while undercover.

"Well, now you're cooking!" Banjo guffawed heartily. "I almost believed that. Little tip, though: you get all sincere-looking when you lie. You'll want to work on that."

"Oh, okay. Thanks." Clark figured it was for the best that he hadn't been taken seriously on that. "I'll work on it." Then something else occurred to him. "What kind of politics bring you to Toronto?"

"Now that is a long story," Banjo took a sip of his own beer. "If you don't know FP, you won't know anything about this, but we've got a big old retirement coming up and a ringer taking over. Only some say he's a double agent, and that we're about to lose our treaty."

This sounded like entirely useless intel to Clark, but in the interests of good will he nodded encouragingly. "So you're in town making sure the ringer doesn't turn on the Serpents and dissolve your treaty?"

"You're quick. I like you. That's exactly it."

"How will you enforce it? Are you just using numbers and an increased local presence to put pressure on him? On them?" Clark figured that at least getting to know some of the common strategies in use by the Serpents would be useful.

"We're also keeping ready in case we need to make it real clear that breaking the treaty's more trouble than it's worth. A little… peacekeeping."

"The police can't do that for you?" Clark figured a treaty was something that most folks would be interested in maintaining. "Or at least help you with it?"

"Eh. Their response times aren't bad, but have you ever seen how long they spend determining who's at fault?" Banjo shook his head mournfully. "In a real situation, you need guys rolling up who know at a glance who to draw down on and who they're supposed to back up. Otherwise you stand to lose a lot of good snakes."

"Oh." Clark was pretty sure the police never just stood around letting people shoot while they took their time and chose sides. But then again, maybe it felt that way when you were in a biker gang and actively 'losing snakes.'

"You gonna be in town for long?" Banjo motioned to the bartender and two more beers appeared on their table. "Like I said, I like you. And any friend of Archer's who's that bad at lying needs two things: a place to drink where your money's no good, and someone to show them a rope or two. And maybe in return you'll eventually tell me what you're doing here. Whaddaya say?"

Clark was not entirely sure, but it sounded like he'd just been offered free beer and friendship. This might be his very first 'contact' developed as an undercover FBI associate. Intern, whatever. "Wow. Thanks. I'm not sure how long I'll be in town, but… yeah, that sounds great."

"Now tell me how you know Archer, and what the kid's been up to since the spring." Banjo lifted his beer toward Clark and they clinked glasses companionably.

"I don't know him all that well. I do know that he's been busy this fall, though, and I think he's been scouted for some sports scholarships. He's also in a band."

"A band? That must be a sight." Banjo guffawed again. "All that energy, all over the stage? He'd make a show, all right."

Clark grinned. "He has a lot of stage presence, yeah. You know, some of his music's online. I can show you."

"No kidding?" Banjo pulled out his phone. "This I've got to see."

"Yes, you do," Clark agreed.

The Serpents had always been somewhat scary, and undercover work had always seemed intimidating in the past - but this was turning out to be kind of fun.

**00000**

"_I'll kill you_!"

Brand had assumed that adding Fred to the household for a night and sending Max with him in the morning was a foolproof plan. There simply would not be enough time for things to go wrong.

Well, apparently the new kid was an overachiever.

As Brand burst into the hallway, wondering exactly how early in the morning it was, he had to grab Fred to keep his own momentum from knocking the man into the wall - and Brand was impressed when FP, who was also making a hasty entrance into the hallway, managed to dodge both of them and start down the stairs before either of the other two.

They all stopped at the bottom of the stairs, though, not sure how best to intervene.

"Stop! _Don't_! Let me _go_!" Max had gone from bellowing to a pained sort of yelping, and an ugly-looking knife clattered across the kitchen floor.

Jones was hugging Max.

It could have been a restraining hold, and in fact it probably should have been one just for safety's sake, but no - Jones was leaning into Max and patting his back reassuringly with his right hand while he used his left arm to pin Max's arms to his sides and firmly maneuvered him away from the open utensil drawer.

"I'm your friend, Max. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you." Jones' tone was level and it was obvious that he was worried - but not about his own safety. He was entirely focused on Max. "It's okay to get upset and yell. You're safe, though. You don't need a knife to protect yourself while I'm here."

Only then did Brand realize that the knife on the floor was not the only one in play.

"_Hey_!" Brand shoved past FP and was grappling with the two teens in an instant.

"Brand! Brand, it's okay!" Jughead started protesting at the top of his lungs, and trying to block Brand from grabbing Max - and disarming him of a steak knife. "He's not going to hurt me. Max is just scared that Agent Sarah is a lie. He's worried that Mr. A is planning to take him somewhere... bad."

Brand ignored Jones, who had apparently defied Brand and FP and shared the transportation plan with Max. Brand twisted Max's wrist until the knife fell. FP was right there to snatch it up, along with the other knife from the floor, and he dumped both into the sink, safely out of reach.

"Stop! Leave Max alone." Jones continued yelling as Brand focused on wrestling him back and FP stepped in to restrain Max and move him away from Jones. "He wasn't going to do anything!"

"You know, you're adorable when you say stupid crap like that." Brand was gratified when Jones scowled as if that was the worst insult he'd ever heard. "Lesson for today: it doesn't matter what you think someone is capable of; when they pick up a knife and start yelling about killing you, from now on I want you to assume that they're going to attempt exactly that - and respond appropriately. Got it?" Brand pushed Jones against the kitchen counter firmly, but not hard enough to hurt him. "You told him the plan when nobody else was even awake? _Honestly_."

FP had Max pinned against another counter, and Brand realized that meant there was a new threat in the room. An angry father could easily play a little too roughly with Max, and they needed to de-escalate the situation as much as possible.

"Don't you dare move from this spot, Jones, or I will put you in a time-out for your own protection." Brand gave the kid a look and nodded his head meaningfully toward the drawer that was still stocked with duct tape and restraints. Jones glared in response to the unwelcome reminder, but he didn't budge when Brand released him.

"FP? Let's trade. I'm going to take Max into the living room, and you take Jones." Brand approached FP carefully. "It's a good trade for you; the kid is already calming down."

FP stepped slowly away from Max, and only his precise, measured movements gave away how agitated he was.

Max's face was pale, and his eyes followed FP for once instead of tracking Brand. It made Brand wonder if he'd missed an exchange between those two.

Well, the brat deserved whatever he'd gotten after pulling a knife on Jones. Two knives.

"So." Brand dropped both hands on Max's shoulders and steered him toward the couch. "You're going to park your butt here until it's time to go. I'm going to have Mr. Andrews talk you through Agent Quinn's role with the FBI, and we're going to have some sanity and cooler heads prevail or you're _really _not going to like what happens next. You will leave this house in handcuffs if I'm not convinced that you're able to make the drive to the FBI without trying something on Fred, so let's see how convincing you can be, huh?"

Fred looked like he was about to back out of chauffeur duty, so Brand gave him a quick shake of the head; there'd be handcuffs all right. Exactly nothing was going to convince him otherwise. But he knew better than to tell that to Max right away if there was any possibility that they could incentivize better behavior.

"Uh, good morning, Max." Fred sat down on the couch gingerly. "I'm really not sure that anything I say can convince you that we're telling the truth about the FBI if you don't already believe Jughead. But I'll happily answer any questions you have."

"I…" Max looked over at Jones, who had not moved from where Brand had told him to stay. FP was right beside him, and clearly ready to step in if anyone made a wrong move. "I don't want-,"

Max choked up but regained control of himself before any tears could fall. His voice hardened. "I'm _not _going to be taken anywhere again. I want you to let me go."

"You're marked. Someone would grab you in no time flat." Brand looked over to Jones for confirmation. "Right, kid?"

"Yeah. Max, it's not that simple. You need help. And protection. Believe me, it's dangerous to strike out on your own when there are criminals looking for you." Jones looked and sounded agonized, and FP dropped an arm over his shoulders. "Can't I go with Max? Just to show him that it's safe?"

"No." Brand and FP said the word in unison.

"Well, uh, maybe you need to get to know me a little better, then." Fred was starting to get the picture - or _a_ picture, anyway - when it came to the new kid, though he was still obviously confused about how Max had come to be in the townhouse while they were ostensibly in Toronto seeking medical care for Jones.

Oh, well. Max wasn't about to give up any information about Rose, and Sarah was more than on top of things. Keeping Andrews in the dark was everyone's goal, so Brand figured he didn't need to worry too much about that.

"Ask me anything you like. Or we can just chat. Do you want to hear about my son, Archie? Or my work? Maybe you could tell me a little about yourself, too. I know that you like cat videos, but that doesn't really tell me a lot about you."

Brand decided to start making breakfast and to have FP brew coffee. They could let Fred try to work his magic, but Brand honestly couldn't picture any scenario that began with a two-knife altercation in the morning and didn't end with handcuffs.

Five minutes later, when Fred was laughing, Max was talking more freely, and Jones was inching toward the conversation while he contributed comments and stories of his own, Brand was glad that FP took it upon himself to haul his son back to his spot by the kitchen counter.

"Dad. Max is fine now. Just _look _at him." Jones did not resist, though, and he even wilted a bit when FP gave him a stern look for moving when his back had been turned.

However, Brand had to admit that the kid had a point: Max looked like he was genuinely starting to believe that Fred was not the next in a long line of people who stood to turn a profit by putting a helpless teenager into unfriendly hands.

The man had a gift.

**00000**

Alice wasn't sure whether this was a good idea, but Gunnar had invited her to sit in on their band 'summit' with Mary Andrews in her official capacity as 'band advisor,' a role which basically meant whatever she wanted it to mean.

She'd accepted, out of curiosity and a growing attachment to the band. Alice was feeling more and more investment in their music and success and each new development was exciting - and the online groundswell was almost mesmerizing to watch grow. So attending the meeting sounded fun.

Then Sweet Pea had turned up at the Pembrooke on his motorcycle, with an extra helmet and a smile.

And somehow Alice was unable to turn him away.

"You can't get away for a ride? I haven't seen you outside of school since we visited your mother. Don't force me to take that personally." Sweet Pea didn't look like he was anywhere near taking that personally, since his smile was confident and his stance projected ease and familiarity. He took a step closer to Alice.

"Well, why don't you come along to the meeting, and we can take a ride afterward? It should be fascinating, and I'm the band advisor so I could deputize you." Alice thought quickly. "You could be a focus group of one."

"I'd have to focus? I don't know if I'm up for that on such a great day for riding," Sweet Pea replied teasingly, motioning to the autumn foliage that was indeed starting to look very impressive. He turned serious a moment later. "Gunnar will be there, so I can just come back and pick you up after if that's easier."

"No." Alice realized even as she spoke that she was ready for this. "You should get to know Gunnar. And all of my friends. I'd like it if you did."

Sweet Pea's grin grew. "All right, then. I'm there."

**00000**

Archie sent his dad another cat video. Honestly, Jughead must be a mess - maybe on painkillers, or perhaps just in pain - if he was really asking for more of these.

'Thanks, Arch. I'll be home late Sunday night. There's some stuff I need to finish up, and there might be some traffic.'

The timeline was a little odd. Archie was not sure where Jughead and FP were, and he was suddenly curious. He reviewed some of his dad's texts and description of his timeline and plan - and suddenly the word 'townhouse' struck him.

Archie knew where one of those was. There was enough distance between there and Riverdale to make his dad's comments make sense.

Huh.

Maybe they could get free medical care there. But probably not. Archie went back to Jughead's texts and couldn't tell much of anything.

He would just have to be patient. Or he might have another way of looking into things. Maybe. Archie knew the meeting was going to start soon, and people were likely already en route to his house, but he opened up his E-mail and did a quick search through the flood of band-related messages.

There it was.

As he reread it, Archie thought it showed a lot of promise, too. He'd just have to sell the others on it, and that might not be particularly difficult.

**00000**

"So you want to open for an opening band?" Veronica was a little confused, but seemed unopposed to the idea. "Is it a big venue?"

"We'd be first, and there would be several other bands, yes." Archie had forwarded the E-mail to everyone, and his mom was sitting in on the discussion. She had assured him that she would offer input, but only after everyone had expressed their wishes first. Archie was honestly impressed by how quiet she'd been so far, and he suspected - hoped - that it was because she approved of the direction that their planning had taken. "It's a _huge _venue, and I think it takes a lot of the pressure off that we don't have to worry about ticket sales, and it's a relatively short set. We'd also be right near Alice's old stomping grounds."

Alice looked up then. She did not have a copy of the E-mail. She'd been looking up statistics about the headlining band with an expression of approval, but this seemed to catch her interest. "Do you mean Toronto?"

"Yep." Archie noticed that his mom looked up as well, and that seemed like it might be confirmation of where his dad was this weekend. Maybe.

"Do you need a place to crash?" Alice smiled eagerly. "I just got the keys to my dad's place, and I should take a look at it. Start thinking about cleaning it and renting it or something. Two birds with one stone?"

"That would be _awesome_." Archie was ninety percent sure that Alice's dad's house was within walking distance of where Jughead was staying if his dad had been referring to that townhouse. This was working out even better than he'd pictured. "Mom, you can officially cross off lodging expenses from the budget."

"We'll see, Archie." His mom was noncommittal, but he recognized her smile; so far at least, she was approving the plan.

"So this band is a little edgier than our sound, but I don't think that's a bad thing," Gunnar finally spoke up. "I like the size of the venue, I like Toronto for a location, but the timing is-,"

"That's the big thing, yeah." Archie nodded. "Is everyone free this week for fall break? And, like, every evening between now and then to pull this off?"

That made his mother frown. She must not have paid close attention to the date.

"I say let's go for it!" Veronica was enthusiastic. "I'm going to call Betty and see if she can come, too. All hands on deck. She'll be into it, and I think she needs a distraction pretty badly right now. How many people can fit comfortably in your dad's house, Alice?"

Alice laughed. "It's a little ridiculous; we could have a full entourage there. Picture everyone having their own room."

"Oh. Wow." Veronica was surprised, but then grinned. "Ni-ice, Alice."

"I don't know. We'll see how it has fared when we get there, but it should be fine for a night or two." Alice shrugged.

"Or three. We could go for fall break and stay through the weekend." Archie suddenly recalled another ace in the hole. "We'd have plenty of time."

"Mrs. Andrews?" Veronica finally drew Archie's mother into the conversation more fully. "What do you think?"

"I think it's soon. _Extremely_ soon." She made eye contact with Archie, and tipped her head apologetically. "I'm not sure you can be ready in that short amount of time. How are the songs coming together?"

"Oh, that's not a problem, Mrs. Andrews." Gunnar was suddenly all reassurance. "We've performed them a couple of times and it's only a question of keeping ourselves fresh and being ready for a new venue. We won't be struggling - not for a set that's this short."

The one person in the room who had been silent the whole time finally spoke up.

"I think it makes sense." Sweet Pea nodded. "You could let the online presence build or whatever while you play this gig, and make decisions after you have this relatively limited experience under your belts. Do you want another set of hands for stuff? Including cleaning the house, Alice, if that turns out to be a thing."

"Sure." Gunnar's expression was emphatically neutral, but his tone was welcoming. "I have absolutely no problem with it whatsoever. You seem like you'd be good at carrying stuff."

Alice looked a little unnerved, but her expression cleared swiftly. "Great. Yeah, thanks, Sweet Pea."

"I think that's one option," Archie's mother spoke slowly, and it was obvious that she was about to redirect everyone, "but we have a lot of others to discuss today. Let's put this at the top of our list and come back to it once we've gotten a clear picture of all of the opportunities, okay? I also want to talk about your online presence, since I just spoke with a friend who specializes in that. He had a lot of suggestions, and some of them we'll want to consider implementing right away."

Time to work. Archie was satisfied, though - he'd made his pitch, and it sounded like folks were onboard for it. Surely there would be enough time to make a quick trip to the townhouse, or to a local medical facility, and drop in on his best friend. He'd see for himself that Jughead was okay.

**00000**

"Clark, put the dog in your room if you don't mind. The handoff is happening."

"Wait, we're going now?" Clark had been playing with Trigger and putting him through some of his paces for agility training. When he reacted strongly to Agent Quinn's words, Trigger leapt up in excitement.

"No, actually. We're getting a delivery. And it's not Davies coming here; it's Fred Andrews."

"Really?" Clark made a face as he tried to figure that out. "How on earth did the FBI get-,"

"This is where you stop asking questions," Agent Williams interrupted. "Although I had more than a few myself, and I'm still not convinced that any of this checks out."

"It's _Fred Andrews_," Agent Quinn replied. "It checks out. It really is that wholesome from what I understand: he got worried and somehow guessed that they were in Toronto."

"Opsec is a thing of the past," Williams lamented.

"Not based on what I was told happened," Sarah said firmly. "We're lucking out, too. He isn't FBI or anyone who's known in the area. This is saving us a lot of hassle."

"So what's he dropping off?" Clark asked.

"His name is Max. It sounds like there's a long story here."

"What is he?" Clark was still confused. "I'll get Trigger in my room so we don't have any incidents, don't worry."

"What do you mean, '_what is he_'?" Williams snapped.

"Sorry - it's not another pet. That was kind of confusing, Williams, so leave him alone. Max is a teenaged boy. He was kidnapped, and Davies recovered him. That is literally all I know."

"Oh." Clark had nothing else to say. And then he did. "This is your specialty, right, Agent Quinn? Will he stay with us long? Is he American, and does this mean we're going to be heading back to the RA now?"

"That is _literally all I know_," Agent Quinn repeated firmly. "I'll be in touch with SAC Wilson once we have Max here."

"Wow." Clark nodded to himself. "All right, then."

He'd have to play it by ear and make a decision about whether to return to the Serpents' bar as he'd originally planned.

**00000**

FP and Brandon flanked Jughead as Max left with Fred Andrews.

Jughead had his arms crossed tightly, but couldn't quite keep still; he was twisting his hands around his elbows anxiously and shifting his weight from foot to foot as they stood by the door.

Fred had insisted that Max be left unrestrained for the drive, and Max had shamefacedly agreed to ride in the backseat with child protection locks on as a compromise. At least that had been a relief for Jughead, who had been objectively horrified and strenuously vocal when the question of handcuffs had been discussed.

Brand had made sure that Fred had both his number and Agent Quinn's on speed dial, just in case, but everything seemed to have settled down after the morning's outburst. Max had been very surprised and a lot more cooperative after they had not punished him for the knife incident.

"He's American," Brandon stated as Fred's car pulled out of the driveway. "It can be dicey going by accent, but his vocabulary is American. He'll be taken across the border and debriefed, and then placed with someone who's equipped to handle him. It's going to turn out as well as can be expected, Jones."

"Mr. Andrews can't take him in." Jughead's voice had a hitch in it. "That would have been a good solution, but he can't. He already tried with me."

"Max needs a little more than Fred can give him, kid." Brand patted Jughead's shoulder, trying not to picture what Fred's reaction would surely have been to _that _suggestion. "I know you're mad at me because I won't adopt him, but you'll have to trust me on that one. And, for what it's worth, I wish I had a concrete plan and a firm set of outcomes that I could offer you. But that was never going to include living with me. Or Fred."

"No, you were right about adopting Max." Jughead made a face. "All it would take is one bad day and you two would kill each other. He needs someone who's a lot more patient."

Brand gave Jughead an irritated look at the idea that his patience was the limiting factor, and not anything to do with the knife-wielding teenager, but he let it go.

FP looked down at Jughead, and he felt a range of aches stemming from his memories of Jughead being missing to the worries that had persisted from debriefing to this day - and now a new one arising from his son's protective impulse and grief over his inability to do more. "Do you want to keep in touch with Max? Follow up with Agent Quinn, and maybe correspond with him?"

"Yeah." Jughead watched the car disappear around a corner and then turned away from the door. "And get together to hang out sometimes."

"Well, I don't know about that." FP tried not to let his skepticism come through in his voice as he followed Jughead to the couch in Brandon's living room. It had still only been a few hours since Max had come after Jughead with a knife. "But I think you're someone he's always going to remember, and that he's someone you're going to think about for a long time. We'll talk it over with Agent Quinn and see what she recommends."

"Sure." Jughead leaned back on the couch wearily.

"What time did you get up this morning?" FP asked curiously.

"Around five. I couldn't sleep."

"You think maybe you could right now?" FP studied Jughead's tired expression. "We don't have anything else on the docket for today. We might try getting back to the apartment, but Brandon and I can handle the planning for now."

"It's Sunday," Brand interjected. "I can give you two some space if you want to watch a movie or play a board game and then nap. I know you're missing therapy this week, too, so…"

Jughead looked up at Brand. "Playing hooky from time to time is healthy, Brand, so we don't get dependent on formal sessions to help us communicate."

"Your therapist actually tells you that? It sounds like kind of a mixed message." Brand was amused.

"No; Dad says that whenever we have to miss a session."

"Ah, I see. My mistake." Brand's tone was teasing and he tousled Jughead's hair. "Are you going to _communicate _with your father today, then?"

Jughead merely nodded, ignoring Brand's humorous tone. "A game or a movie sounds good; I'm up for either."

"What board games do you have here, Brandon?" FP had perked up as well. "You can join us if you like."

"Nah. You should keep your Sunday routine." Brand waved him off. "I'll read a book and maybe start on that nap a little sooner. The games are all on the bookshelf down there." Brand pointed out a low shelf that was filled with games.

Jughead and FP investigated them while Brand went upstairs. Soon they were teasing each other competitively while they played a few favorites, and then they were more focused as they tried out one that was new to them both.

Brand came back downstairs a few hours later. He raised an eyebrow when he realized that the two had been playing games the whole time. "No naps for the weary?"

"We must have lost track of time. You should go get some sleep, Jug. I can clean up this game," FP offered.

"Okay." Jughead stretched and then stood up from the couch. "I'll see if I can fall asleep."

He disappeared upstairs, and Brandon joined FP on the couch to help him clear away the game pieces from the coffee table.

"So. How screwed are we?" FP asked. "I'm sure you weren't napping that whole time."

"Yeah, not quite. And, strangely enough, we might still be on track," Brandon pulled out his phone and studied something on it. "Rose wants one more thing, and I'm thinking we still need to keep you a secret for at least the lead-up to that part, but he isn't flipping out. We may still be able to do this."

"He wants something else? Oh, joy." FP felt weary now as well, and envied Jughead heading toward a nap. "Are you planning to head back to Rose's place, then? To deal with the Max fallout?"

"That's what I'm saying. There is no Max fallout." Brandon made a face. "Rose hadn't taken custody of him, or money hadn't yet changed hands, or something. Anyway, someone else is going to be out for blood from what I gather, but Rose didn't eat the loss and he doesn't see any reason to expend resources following up on it."

"Dom does land on his feet most of the time. That's something, I guess." FP rubbed his eyes. "Any idea what they were doing with Max?"

"None." Brandon massaged the back of his neck. "You might want to find that out before you let Jones keep in touch. Sarah will get to the bottom of things, but you'll want to know what the kid is likely to be getting himself into."

"Yeah." FP felt the ache return. "You're probably right."

"So that one thing Rose wants." Brand's voice was suddenly a little too casual. "I think we can bundle it with the bust. Use some cell phone technology to get some 'wires' in there, have you enter the scene, and bring the roof down right afterward. But-,"

"Oh, let me guess." FP felt wide awake now. "He wants to see Jughead again?"

"Just for the dinner he didn't get to have with the kid. Maybe even lunch." Brandon shrugged apologetically. "It would be elegant; Jones and I would do it together, we'd bring ears inside with us, and as soon as we had what we needed I'd bring you in to close the trap - and we'd have everyone poised and standing by for the bust. We'd be out of Toronto before the end of the week."

"I hate you." FP's voice held no rancor, though.

"You love me. You hate this plan," Brandon corrected. "I didn't think we'd be able to have Jones skate on grabbing Max, but if Rose thinks it's not even worth pursuing, we can do this. I even got the sense that he _likes _the idea of Jones jailbreaking another kid successfully, so long as it didn't represent a loss for him."

FP snorted. "That sounds like Dom. Sure. Doesn't mean he isn't lying through his teeth and trying to get Jug back under his roof to make an example out of him."

"I really don't think that's it. And it's a powerful statement that he wants to bond with Jones. Get to know him a bit. If we have you walk in after an hour or two of that, it's going to be as effective a setup as we could have dreamed up." Brandon looked toward the stairs where Jughead had disappeared. "This part I could theoretically do without him, though."

"Great. Sold. He's out." FP gave Brandon a look.

"But we'd potentially be here for a lot longer, and severing those ties could be much more difficult. It might be a gift, FP, and I'm not talking about doing it without a load of precautions." Brandon stretched. "We have time to decide, though. Go take a nap; you look even older than usual."

FP raised an eyebrow, but he got up to head back to his own bed. "Brandon?"

"Yeah?"

"You'd be there? The FBI would be listening the whole time? There wouldn't be another kidnapped teenager to distract Jughead?"

"My God, let's hope not. And they're doing excellent work with cell phones these days."

"Huh." FP considered that. He shook his head, though. "Jughead's out. Bullets are too fast, and I'm not interested in seeing how many he can dodge."

"Me either." Brandon frowned at the implication that he was playing fast and loose with Jughead's well-being. "I do think it might be safer for him in the long run, though. Go get some sleep for now. No decisions until we've had some time to think."

FP was both surprised and unsurprised when he got to his room, lay down, and felt himself drifting off right away.

**00000**

Jughead heard his dad making his way up the stairs with his distinctive footfalls.

He shook his head helplessly and pled with his eyes for mercy.

"There's only one way this is happening without Brandon bleeding out on the floor." The gun cocked, and the noise sounded far too loud in the small bedroom.

"I'll go with you. Just please don't hurt anyone." Jughead kept his voice low, hoping his dad wouldn't hear the tense conversation playing out and come to investigate. If he yelled for help, he knew that Brand would stand a chance - but he had no idea what his dad might do, and what could happen to him.

The image of FP in the shooting range, bleeding heavily and fearful that the bullet wound might be life-threatening, seemed permanently stuck in Jughead's mind - along with Brand's assessment: that Donn must have outsourced the hit, because he would not have missed.

"All right." Donn gestured toward the bedroom window that Jughead had entered the townhouse through two days previously - and neglected to lock behind himself. "Some symmetry, huh? You really owe me. Rose has deeper pockets, so we'll start there, but when Brandon's booted out and I take over for him I'm not likely to forget that you're the sneak thief who robbed me."

Donn paused thoughtfully and seemed to be weighing options. "Rose giving you to me as a replacement for Max seems like it would be a fair trade. It would be a good start, anyway; I'll have to see what's possible with the FBI after that. I might even end up with both of you, and then we'll just see if I can come out ahead in spite of your little stunt."

Jughead blinked against the burning sensation in his eyes as he moved toward the window.

"Got your cell phone? We'll need that too." Donn was holding a backpack that he'd filled with Jughead's clothing.

Jughead nodded, sliding it out of his pocket to show Donn. His dad had taken possession of his wallet and passport while Max was in the townhouse, so he hoped Donn didn't ask about either of those.

"Let's go, then. Get in the back seat of the blue car and buckle yourself into the restraints there. I'll tighten them down in a minute, but we don't want anyone seeing anything from the street, now do we?"

Jughead nodded a second time, even as he shuddered at the thought of being tied up and taken away. He climbed quickly out the window, willing Brand not to climb the stairs before Donn followed him out and down the lightweight ladder he'd used to surprise Jughead in his room.

Discovering that there was an unexpected extra person in the townhouse might be enough to start bullets flying.

The back seat of the blue car had a tangle of nylon straps on it. Jughead wasn't sure where to begin.

"Legs first. I'll get to your arms in a minute." Donn dropped the backpack on the floor of the vehicle, and for a moment Jughead considered attacking him for the gun - but Donn moved out of reach as if he sensed his idea. "I heard that Clark was in the city the other day. What is Brandon trying to pull? Rose is going to get quite an earful today."

Jughead was shocked to hear that Clark was nearby - and chilled to the bone by the idea that Donn might be able to find him.

"Oh, you felt invulnerable, didn't you? There are so many ways to find things out. And then for someone to have an accident." Donn tutted. "Legs. Now don't over tighten those; you should be hobbled, but still able to walk inside when we get to Rose's. We won't need a gag, I think. You're doing well."

Jughead shook his head quickly against the idea of a gag. He could begin to see a pattern to the straps now, and he cinched his ankles into the straps that were dangling from the seat.

"Belt it around yourself next, and then do your arms and shoulders. It's nothing too bad; your arms will be attached to your sides and waist, so it's going to keep you from trying anything, but you'll be comfortable. I take care of what's mine, and I do think that's going to include you once Rose hears what's going on."

Jughead felt a tear roll down his face.

"Keep going." Donn gestured with the gun. "If Brandon comes out here, I'll shoot him in the head. You might prefer to be quick enough that doesn't happen."

Jughead nodded, speeding up his movements.

He wasn't sure what his game plan should be, but he trusted that if his dad and Brand stumbled into the situation, it could end very badly. If Brand had time to prepare and then come after him, they all had a much better shot at survival.

"Don't cry too hard. If all goes well, you'll be reunited with Brandon soon enough."

Donn's self-satisfied smile was the most terrifying thing that Jughead had seen in quite some time.

**00000**

**I know! Everything went left when it looked like it was going right! And now things are in motion... and Donn is back. Woo-hoo! I'll love reading any and all notes as I write Chapter Twenty-One... :)**

**I hope you are having a lovely week!**

**-Button**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One! It's been an exhausting week, but hey - we made it!**

**Skyrider45, Banjo is so much fun already. I'm not sure how much the Serpents are going to come in, but they're definitely present and in the thick of it now... And yay for the band getting to Toronto! Awww, Fred - I think he's going to get some more moments, too. I had a good laugh this week because Donn is basically the Spanish Inquisition from Monty Python; he's been around, but still catches us flat-footed every time. It's become his thing. :-D Thanks so much for the encouragement, too! I will try to keep it up! :-D**

**Living Lucid Dream, I am interested in seeing how the Serpents weave into all of this as well. They're definitely watching, and only from a slight distance! I am enjoying Clark working through a thoroughly out of context experience, too. He's learning a lot in a hurry, and I suspect that he's not done yet. Oh man, just thinking about Fred working through all of that on a daily basis is painful; I think it would be super hard for him, even though he's definitely got the touch. And yay for calling it with the keys! That was great! :-D I'm really curious about how Alice and the band are going to navigate everything and what they'll be walking into as well... We officially have a timeline starting to take shape! And I'll take a flourishing bow over a shocking ending. :-D We might get some breather chapters here and there, but oh man the plot is thickening. I love your excitement so much, by the way; it was so energizing to read your review! :-D**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Jughead stumbled into Rose's immense foyer on his hobbled legs, without the ability to use his bound arms for balance.

"Donn?" Rose's voice carried from an adjacent room. "What is this all about?"

Donn steered Jughead into the room, which was plush with red velvets and lined with leather-bound books.

Rose looked confused. Maybe annoyed. Two other men followed Donn and Jughead into the room, and it seemed like they might be part of Rose's security.

"It's about Jones. He's the one who stole Max from here the other night. He and Brandon are-,"

"You've suffered a loss, Marcus, and you aren't thinking clearly." Rose's voice was calm. "Did he hurt you, Jones?"

Jughead wasn't sure how to answer that, and he hesitated.

"That's it; this form of loose cannon behavior has gone on for too long. You're dismissed, Donn. I don't want to see or hear from you again." Rose's expression was suddenly cold, and Jughead recognized his tone from the scariest of his phone messages. "You have every ability to retrieve Max from the FBI for the moment, but I suggest that you cut your losses and move on with your life. In any event, I won't tolerate you harassing Jones or Brandon any further."

Jughead was sure he was hearing the same promise that Donn was in Rose's turn of phrase: that it was a question of when, not if, his job with the FBI evaporated.

Donn's expression was murderous, but even with them out of his line of sight, he seemed to sense that the security in the room had drawn their weapons.

He turned toward Jughead, though, and his body loomed over the teen threateningly.

Jughead stumbled a few steps backward, and tripped over the straps holding his feet too close together. Without the ability to catch himself, he went down hard and felt the air knocked out of his lungs when he hit the hardwood floor.

"That is quite enough." Rose was back to his usual unperturbed demeanor, but the words had no less powerful an effect. Donn turned on his heel and was exiting the house in scant seconds.

"Brandon was right. He is entirely unstable, and I'm afraid I gave him too much free rein. Did he shoot anyone, Jones? Do I need to clean up any messes?"

Jughead stared up at Rose, his mind racing with thoughts of Donn going after Max as he gasped for air and tried to figure out how to respond.

"Oh dear, did he shoot Brandon?" Rose looked mildly alarmed for the first time.

One of the security men bent down next to Jughead and began releasing the straps holding his arms helplessly against his sides.

"Brand's okay," Jughead managed breathlessly. "Donn didn't shoot him."

"He hurt you, though?"

"Uh, n-no. Sorry. He only threatened me." Jughead wasn't sure why he was apologizing for that. The room seemed unsteady and that was making him feel nauseated, though, so he didn't try to think too much about it.

Rose arched an eyebrow. "_So_ far out of line. He knew I wanted you and Brandon left alone, and he kept on pushing. No matter; you're fine and Brandon is fine. It's rather nice that you're here, in fact. Perhaps you'll consider staying with me for a few days. I've got a gift on its way for you, and we didn't get to spend much time together when you visited with Brandon."

Jughead felt like he was hallucinating all of this as the straps fell away from him and the security operative offered him a hand up from where he was on the floor.

"What?"

"Tea, I think. Something to eat. You look very tired, too." Rose tutted, and Jughead realized with a jolt that it was the same noise that Donn had made in the car. "Let's have you call Brandon first, though, and let him know that you're here and unharmed. He's so attached, and he does tend toward worrying."

Jughead wasn't sure that he could trust his own senses, but if there was any possibility that this was reality, he wasn't missing his chance. He had his cell phone dialing Brand in moments.

"Kid, are you calling me from your bedroom?" Brand sounded amused.

"I think Donn might be going after Max." Jughead hadn't intended for those to be his first words to Brand.

"Wait, what? Where are you? Stay put, wherever you are; I'll come to you. Are you safe? Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay. Rose has a gift for me. He wants me to stay with him for a few days." Jughead frowned as he realized that this was not coming out coherently.

"You're with _Rose_? Put him on the phone. And don't move; you don't sound okay, kid." Brand's voice was thick with worry.

"Brandon, I'm afraid you were correct in your assessment of Donn." Rose sounded more rueful about having been proven wrong than anything else that had transpired. "He brought Jones here in restraints, raving about the loss of Max, but it's all sorted out now. You don't need to come by right away, but perhaps on Wednesday you could collect the boy. That should give us a chance to get to know each other better; I'd quite like to see what you see in him. The timing is most advantageous, too, as his gift should arrive tomorrow."

"Is he okay?" Brand demanded. "Did Donn hurt him?"

"He's shaken up and needs some tea, I'd say, but he's unharmed." Rose motioned to one of the men in the room, and he left. "He's perfectly safe here. Your concern is noted; I'll make sure he's comfortable, well fed, and rested."

Maybe the man had gone to get some tea, Jughead speculated, staring after the retreating figure.

"Put Jones back on the phone," Brand ordered.

"As you wish." Rose seemed to be entertained by Brand's intensity.

"I'm okay, Brand." Jughead felt another tear fall, but this time he could wipe it away. He wondered if his dad was standing next to Brand. He hoped they both could hear him. "I didn't want Donn to shoot anyone, so I didn't fight back. I didn't know what to do. But I'm okay."

"I know you are, killer. You're a tough cookie, and you kept yourself in one piece just like I always ask. Sometimes a gun means you don't have any options, and Donn's a very good shot. It sounds like you were paying attention and being smart." Brand's voice was gentle and soothing. "Keep your cell phone on you at all times, okay? I'm going to come for you as soon as I can square things away. Do _you _think that things are as stable as Rose is saying? Are you safe there for the time being?"

Jughead felt like he'd been answering that question over and over. "Rose protected me."

"Okay. All right. I want to talk to him again, but you might be there for a day or two, so everything we discussed applies. Once we're done with this call, keep your cell phone right with you."

"Okay, Brand." Jughead handed the phone back to Rose.

Sure enough, the man reappeared with a tea service.

Jughead wrapped his arms around himself as the security operative poured him tea and offered him a tiny china plate that held a croissant.

Rose was still on the phone with Brand, but he looked over for a moment. "Eat, Jones. You look ill."

Jughead scrubbed his eyes with his palms, willing reality to come back into focus. When it still looked like he was in Rose's home, being served tea and pastry, he accepted the plate and the cup and saucer and sat down on a plush sofa.

"I'll see you then, Brandon. Yes, he's eating now. You left his camera here the other evening, so I'll see that he's given that too. All right."

Rose ended the call and then reached over to set the cell phone next to Jughead on the velvet fabric of the sofa he was seated on. "Do you like black tea?"

Jughead shrugged and tried a sip. It was hot tea and did not taste remarkable to him. "I like croissants."

Rose motioned to the security guy again, and Jughead was offered a second croissant on a napkin. "Eat up. I'll have a room prepared for you, and then you can lie down if you like."

Jughead wondered if Rose expected to be thanked. After a long, awkward pause, he figured the answer was yes. "Thank you."

"Ahhh, there are those manners." Rose seemed to relax, though Jughead had not realized until that moment that the man had tensed. "You are entirely welcome, Jones."

**00000**

FP would kill him if Brand let him sleep.

FP was probably going to kill him either way.

But Brand needed another perspective on this. Apparently Donn had kidnapped Jones right out of his bedroom, with both Brand and FP in the house.

With surveillance footage being saved from every angle Brand had been able to think of.

Brand's jaw slackened as he processed that fact. This might be a game changer.

But right now he needed to wake FP up and tell him that his son was alive, but had been stolen from his bed by the man FP hated most in the world, and then 'rescued' by the very criminal that they were trying to protect Jones from.

Brand's own vision was already tinted red from the anger running through him, so he figured that almost any response from FP would be appropriate to the situation.

Yeah, he was probably going to die once FP found out what had transpired.

Brand started up the stairs.

**00000**

Fred Andrews dropped off Max, but from what Clark could tell he'd told them basically nothing - which made some sense since he was not operating in any official capacity. Mr. Andrews simply left Max with the parting admonition that he had a chance to make a fresh start.

It seemed like good advice, and nobody wanted to put Mr. Andrews in the middle of anything, so they'd left it at that for the time being.

Clark was not entirely sure what he'd expected would happen when Agents Quinn and Williams had to leave the apartment later in the day, but being left alone with a skinny, wide-eyed teenager who had pressed himself into a corner with a book and an entire loaf of French bread that he was steadily making his way through was probably the kind of babysitting job that was more or less his speed.

It was uncomfortable, though. And Clark had a feeling that his effusive offer of 'any food you want' was going to come back to haunt him when Agent Williams discovered that they were completely out of the bread that she'd specifically sought out at an upscale bakery.

Nevertheless, Clark eventually decided to follow Max's example and he settled in to study and work on his paper once again. He was sitting near his own bedroom door and could hear Trigger snuffling around on occasion.

When the dog eventually scratched on the door, as if politely requesting introductions with the newcomer, Clark looked up from his coursework.

Max was frozen and clearly terrified, his book dangling from his hands and all but abandoned, and he was staring at Clark's bedroom door as if it concealed actual monsters.

"Are you okay, Max?" Clark frowned. "That's just Trigger. Agent Quinn didn't want him wandering around while you're settling in here."

"Who's Trigger?" Max's voice was faint, almost a whisper, as if he was trying to hide himself from whatever was in the bedroom, and Clark's reassurance seemed to have done nothing at all to allay his fear.

"He's Jones' dog. I think you'll like him, but we're going to leave him in there until it's time for his walk. Agent Quinn wants us to-,"

"Jughead has a dog?" Max seemed to recover as he thought that through. He drew his book up toward his chest and clutched the large hardcover volume as if it were a security blanket, but his facial expression had relaxed. "His dog is here with you?"

"Yeah. I've been living with Jones and his family for a little while, so Trig knows me pretty well. This works out for the time being." Clark shrugged, not sure how much else to explain.

"Jughead lives with an FBI agent?" Max spoke more to himself than to Clark this time, and his tone was awed.

"Oh, no - I'm not an agent. I'd need a lot of specialized training before I'd get that title. Special Agent Davies is, though, in sort of an international role, and they've been living together off and on for a while. Uh, that's his godfather; I don't know if they explained all of that to you."

Max looked confused. "FP's his dad, so... You don't mean _Brand_."

"I do, actually. It surprised me too, but Davies is Jughead's godfather."

"_That_ guy's an FBI agent?" Max's jaw dropped.

Clark smiled. "One of the best. He's modest, though, so I bet he didn't tell you about any of that. But rescuing people is part of his job."

Max stared at Clark in disbelief.

"I'm not making this up, Max."

"Oka-ay." Max looked back at the bedroom door. "Jughead lives with you, and his dad, and with an FBI agent - _Brand_, who's his _godfather _\- and he has a dog?"

"It's a full house, yeah, but just temporarily. Except for Trigger and his dad," Clark explained. "It's a little complicated; I'll be moving out soon, and Special Agent Davies is buying a house, but for a few weeks that's been the arrangement."

"How did Jughead get kidnapped, then?" Max looked disconcerted. "Or did he make that up?"

"Oh, that was back when he was undercover with Davies. It was more of a capture than anything, and I don't know a whole lot about it. I mean, we were taken prisoner by some terrorists, too, but that was a little different - and just for a few hours."

Max gaped at Clark, who realized a little too late that this was probably not appropriate conversation for a recently recovered abductee. "Sorry. That's not something we should - uh, what's your book about?"

The topic change was less than smooth, but Max thankfully didn't seem to mind.

Instead, unexpectedly, he lit up proudly.

"It's called _Treasure Island_. Jughead said it was good, and Brand said I could keep it, even though Jughead was a little worried he might not because it's expensive. Brand gave me three books, and they're all classics, so that means I'll want to read them more than once."

Clark smiled warmly, relieved by the feeling that he was on solid footing once more. "That's a great book and a great plan. I think I read it more than once when I was around your age. It looks like a nice edition, too. Good choice."

"Thanks." Max returned the smile, but then his eyes went back to the bedroom door.

"You want me to let him out? Trig probably just wants to meet you and figure out what's going on."

"Can I pet him?" Max looked tentatively hopeful.

"Well, only if you understand in advance how much he loves that. You might be signing up for a whole lot of petting if you start down that road." Clark stood up to open the door to his room and release Trigger.

"I'm good for it." Max jammed the remainder of the French bread back into its bag and knotted the plastic, and then he carefully slid his book into one of the two tote bags he'd kept within reach since his arrival.

"In that case, have at it." Clark let Trig out, and watched closely as the dog darted toward Max and woofed lightly as he smelled around the boy and his possessions. "Give him a minute. You might smell like Jones, and that's going to confuse him."

"Hi, boy. Do you miss Jughead?" Max addressed Trigger, who had begun sniffing Max's torso and looked up eagerly when he heard his master's name. "You're a good dog. You probably really like living with FBI people, huh? They must have to exercise all the time, so there's always someone to play with. I bet you bite Brand, too, whenever he's mean. He would _never _punish Jughead when you're around."

Clark's eyebrows lowered in consternation over that comment, but he figured Davies had probably just intimidated Max. And, to be perfectly honest, Clark could relate to that sentiment.

"Can I walk him?"

Clark sighed when Trigger made a delighted noise and then began dancing in a tight circle. "Now that you've said the 'W' word, I think we'd better. Not far, though. I was given very strict parameters for today."

"Awesome." Max looked around the apartment. "Can I put my stuff in your room?"

"Sure. We'll be sharing that room, so it's yours too. We've even got a lock on the door. Why don't you find a real good hiding spot so nothing gets lost, and I'll get Trigger leashed." Clark nodded encouragingly. Agent Quinn had warned him not to touch Max's possessions, and he figured that doing a little extra to secure his belongings might set the teen's mind at ease.

"I'm not being paranoid, you know." Max's eyes had narrowed. "People break into apartments all the time. They steal valuable books."

"Hey, no judgment. I'm just telling you that we don't have a safe in there. Evasive maneuvers are our best bet." Clark made his expression and tone as sincere as he could. "Personally, I would hate to lose my copy of _Treasure Island_."

"Yeah. That's all I'm saying." Max seemed somewhat appeased. "And if we're not going far, then probably nobody will even know that the apartment's empty."

"We'll even leave a few lights on, even though it's daytime," Clark agreed. "That should do the trick."

Max nodded and looked around the apartment again, this time approvingly. "The FBI is rich. That means you might get robbed, because you have three bedrooms and two bathrooms and that's kind of a giveaway. But I bet the other apartments could distract thieves if you have better security than them."

"Good point." Clark wasn't sure why they were continuing to discuss this, but it seemed to be making Max feel more secure to talk through the details. "We don't have to outrun the bear."

"The bear?" Max asked.

"It's just a phrase. Go find a place for your stuff and I'll explain while we're on our walk."

"Okay." Max headed into the room he'd be sharing with Clark.

Clark took a deep breath as he moved toward Trigger's leash. Things seemed to be going well so far, but he had the distinct sense that he was just one misstep away from disaster.

Hopefully a walk would help.

**00000**

"Call Fred. He can't come back here." FP was in Jughead's room, staring at the window that Donn had taken him from.

"Okay." Brandon was subdued, though he was obviously upset by the situation - and by the footage they'd just watched together. "I'll call him right now."

FP had erupted, demanding that they go after Jughead right away, but after Brandon had talked him through all the reasons that was unwise at the moment, he'd gritted his teeth and watched the trail cam footage with Brandon on his laptop.

And now he felt sick.

It was clear that Donn had surprised Jughead with a gun, and at some point in the process FP must have come up the stairs to lie down; both figures had reacted to something in the hallway, and Jughead's tense, alert body language had gone completely to hell after that.

Being around his son was making it harder for Jughead to stay safe.

FP stepped toward the window where the slight ladder had long since been unhooked and removed. He and Brandon had never asked Jughead how he'd gotten into the locked townhouse with Max, and now it seemed stupidly obvious that they should have. Who ever heard of a teenager who locked a window behind himself? Both Brandon and FP suspected that any attempt at forced entry might well have alerted the adults to Donn's presence.

"FP?" Brandon came back into the room, and FP realized that he wasn't sure how long he had been gone. "Fred's heading home to Riverdale. I told him Jughead was feeling worse."

"That's... good. It lays some groundwork," FP said numbly. "In case he never-,"

"No, no, no, FP." Brandon was suddenly in his face, grabbing his shoulders. "If I thought that I'd have left you asleep and called the FBI in right away for the bust. We'd have lost Rose to a million technicalities, but Jones is more important. We're not going to lose him. Rose is going to take good care of him, get the full Jones experience that he's so curious about, and then we're going to pick the kid up just as easy as you please. You're going in with me, we'll follow the plan, and we'll bust Rose. For good."

Brandon looked only more worried as he studied FP's expression. "You aren't supposed to know this, but I've got Jones' cell phone rigged. He's wired. He can't actively transmit from Rose's place, thanks to the never-ending arms race of spy/counterspy, but we're going to have everything we need. You have got to hold it together, though, and we need to keep your presence in Toronto under wraps until Wednesday. Sixty hours or so. You got that?"

FP could not fathom waiting sixty hours. He could not picture waiting a single hour.

"Maybe you should have taken Jughead and disappeared, back when you had the chance."

"FP, as Solomonesque as that notion is coming from you, Jones didn't want that. He begged me not to do that. Your son is done with living in fear, and we are very close to pulling this off. You're not thinking clearly right now because you're being pushed further than anyone ever should be - and that's legitimate - but whatever's going through your head right now is wrong; I've seen Jones through some wars, but you're the one who built a life that made him want to risk everything in order to come home for good. You cannot fall apart on him now."

Brand suddenly realized that he had a very compelling option available for bucking the older man up. "Come here and sit down for a second. Let me call Jones and put him on speaker, and we'll just check in. Rose knows I'm paranoid; he won't think anything's out of the ordinary, and you can hear for yourself that Jones is fine."

FP felt his expression twist in disbelief.

"He's not a prisoner, FP - we can keep in close contact with the kid. You need to keep your mouth shut, but I'll use one of those codes you hate so much. He'll know that you're listening."

**00000**

Jones had described the ornate room that Rose had set up for him, and declared that he was lying on 'the softest bed known to man' before Brand subtly clued him in that his father was on the call.

"I miss Dad. We've been away from him for too long."

Good. Jones already had a false narrative going.

"Yeah, he doesn't do well with separations." Brand ignored FP's glare. It was going to worry the kid, sure, but the whole point was to communicate what was going on. "I think he'll be better once he hears from you. Just a little while longer in Toronto and then we can touch base with him."

"I know. And it's not like I'm roughing it." Jones' voice was wistful. "I was really scared that someone would get shot, but I think it's all going to be okay. Sorry again about the window."

"We're definitely talking about that more later," Brand's voice was calm, though he was still frustrated about the avoidable breach in security, "but it happens. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Did you get it on video?" Jones suddenly realized that was likely. "You must have. You got Donn on video, breaking and entering?"

"Scaling the building, stealing your stuff, and quite obviously kidnapping you at gunpoint. Rose was wise to get rid of the dead weight," Brand confirmed.

"Whoa," Jones breathed the word, absorbing the magnitude of what that meant for the bust. Donn had not even been in view until now, and this development meant that it was all but assured that he'd be taken down. "It was kind of worth it, then."

Brand's eyes flew to FP, figuring that there was going to be an audible reaction to that gem. "Bite your tongue, kid. None of this is 'worth it' if you get yourself hurt or killed."

FP looked a little less like he was going to spontaneously combust now that Brand had given voice to his sentiment, but it was probably time to wrap up the call.

"I'm going to check in often. Text me, too. I want to see those eyes of yours." Photos of objects and rooms were not likely to set FP's mind at ease.

"I'll take selfies, even though you _know _that I'm not doing drugs. I drank some black tea, though, and now I can't sleep."

"Well, that wasn't bright." Brand rubbed the back of his neck. "Stay away from caffeine. And alcohol."

"And cigarettes, and-," Jones huffed a quiet laugh.

"And all of that, yeah. I'll be there to pick you up bright and early on Wednesday."

"Rose wants us to have lunch on Wednesday."

"You have an _itinerary_?" Brand figured that was probably a good sign, but it sounded nuts. "I guess I'll be joining you, then, because I'll be there bright and early. Keep your cell phone with you at all times, kid."

"I heard you the first million times." Jones' voice held a note of curiosity, though, and Brand was relieved: he'd finally caught that his godfather meant that as more than just a safety precaution. "I'll keep it charged and right with me."

"Good. I love you, and you know your dad would say the same thing if he were here."

"I love you too." Jones choked up a little on the words. "I'm okay; I promise. I'll text a lot."

"Good. Hey, one more thing before you go. Are you still glad we made the trip up here?" Brand decided to add one more brick to the foundation of FP's resolve. He already knew what Jones would say.

There was a brief silence while Jones silently thought through what Brand meant - and perhaps also what kind of message from FP those words might represent. "You mean… instead of a _different _vacation?"

"That's exactly what I mean."

"Yeah. I never wanted to go anywhere else. Donn can suck it; coming to Toronto was definitely the right call."

"Duly noted. Just checking. That's good to hear, kid." Brand's voice was filled with satisfaction.

Brand said goodbye and then handed the phone to FP, who left the line open in silence until Jones finally killed the call. A few moments later a text came in with a photo of the kid lounging in a bedroom that looked reminiscent of eighteenth century Versailles.

When FP reached to hand his phone back to him, Brand waved him off. "Hang onto that for now, unless a call comes in. Those texts are for you more than they're for me. If you get anxious, just send him a note and he'll get you proof of life. I hope you heard him, too: he wants to be here. Jones is glad you're here, and he's glad you stopped us from taking off. This is the risk he was willing to take, and he hasn't changed his mind."

FP nodded, but didn't seem ready to speak.

"Ready to break some rules?" Brand eyed him closely. "I think it's time. We've got work to do, and you're far too valuable to be sidelined any longer. We've got your presence in Toronto established, and now we've officially got our timeline for bringing you in to confront Rose."

"You're trying to pretend that I'm actually useful to this whole mission?" FP's tone was dark.

"Yep. So get it together, because I'm about to lay out the whole bust - wide open - just for you, and I expect you to have helpful input." Brand slapped FP's shoulder bracingly. "Do not tell anyone at the FBI about this. Ever. But I'd rather have you know all this than Williams or Wilson. Quinn's a closer call. But you're my ringer, and you need to be ready. Jones needs you to be ready."

FP's eyes were narrowed, but he seemed more interested now.

"First, though, let's get the Donn footage squared away so we can drop that along with the bust. He's going away for a long time. That's the end of his career with the FBI, and Jones deserves at least a few decades of knowing he's locked up for what he did."

FP nodded his agreement.

"Then I want to show you floorplans for Rose's house." Brand waited for FP to absorb that idea. "I want you to know where everything's located. Know your way around. It might come in handy."

"When I go with you to get Jughead."

"Exactly."

"Tell me everything."

**00000**

Clark and Max got back to the apartment with Trigger - and a fresh loaf of bread from the local bakery to replace the one that Max had demolished.

"Agent Williams likes bread a lot?" Max was amused by the purchase, and intrigued by the religieuses and eclairs that Clark had gotten as a treat. "You could have told me and I wouldn't have eaten so much of it."

"You were hungry. It's all good." Clark placed the pastries in the refrigerator. "Do you want some cheese or anything? You shouldn't just eat bread."

"Sure." Max went to the kitchen counter where they'd placed Trigger's bag of food, theoretically out of the dog's reach, and he took out a handful. "I bet Trig's hungry too. Will he eat out of my hand?"

"He'll eat off of your feet if you want him to. Not that I'm recommending that." Clark smiled as Max fed the dog food to Trigger and then washed off his well-licked hands. "Do you like smoked cheese?"

"Probably. But maybe not." Max came over to investigate the contents of the fridge. "Do you have pepperoni?"

"Nope. We're not quite that well stocked. We've got lunch meat, though, so maybe some ham?"

A few minutes later Max was cutting up the remainder of his loaf of French bread and making sandwiches for both him and Clark.

"Do you have milk? And chocolate syrup?"

"Wow. You know what's good. You and Jones must have gotten along well." Clark returned to the refrigerator. "We have milk, but no chocolate syrup."

"We did get along. But then I got really mad at him." Max stopped assembling the sandwiches. "He said we're still friends, but…"

"If he said that, I'm sure it's true." Clark pulled out the milk. "What did you get mad about?"

"It was dumb."

"I get it. Sometimes the biggest fights are over something dumb." Clark gave him a sympathetic grimace and then poured two glasses of milk. "I've had some doozies over the years."

Max went back to making the sandwiches. "Did you use a knife?"

"For the milk? No. Why would I-," Clark suddenly realized what Max meant. "Uh. Did _you _use a knife?"

"Yeah. I mean, nobody got hurt, and Jughead even said that he knew I wasn't trying to hurt anyone. I was just... serious. People don't always listen to me. I have to _make_ them listen."

"Oh. Okay." Clark eyed the knife that Max had used to cut the bread, which was now lying on the table right in front of the teen.

Maybe they should have asked Fred Andrews a few more questions.

"Do you have a gun?" Max picked up the knife and sliced each sandwich in half.

This whole line of questioning was suddenly making Clark very uncomfortable.

"Max, we don't need to talk about-,"

"I just wondered."

Clark wished that he'd never seen the film _The Bad Seed_. This conversation was probably entirely innocent, but it was giving him chills.

And then there was a knock on the door.

Max's eyes went wide; before Clark could say anything, he'd darted into their shared bedroom, grabbing Trigger by the collar as he went, and closed the door softly behind himself.

Clark had just enough time to notice that the knife had gone with the teenager before the knock came a second time.

"Just a minute!" Clark called toward the door. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and went to see through the glass peephole who was there.

Oh, good grief.

"Special Agent Donn?" Clark did not open the door, but he called through it to his former boss's boss. This might be an official visit, but things had been so weird during the Southside case that he was reluctant to even unbolt the door.

"Hi Clark. Want to let me in?" Donn smiled into the glass where he knew Clark was looking.

A squeak behind Clark alerted him to Max's reappearance in the kitchen. The boy looked entirely panicked, had the knife raised, and was shaking his head hard.

"Uh, actually, I can't. Sorry. I've got very specific orders." Clark motioned to Max and they both moved away from the door so that Donn would not be able to see them if he attempted to peer in.

Max whispered to Clark. "He's a liar. He's not an agent. And he has a gun. Are you sure you don't have one?"

"I have one," Clark whispered back. "But I don't think we need it. We'll keep the door locked and I'll call Agent Quinn."

"_No_. That will take too long. They won't get here in time, and they might not believe me. We have to-,"

Donn knocked again. "Clark, I'm on a schedule. Can we get this cleared up? Do you want to see my badge?" His tone was faintly teasing. "I know all about Quinn's assignment, and I know that you're overseeing Max and need someone to take him stateside so that you three can continue your work here. I even appreciate the dutiful attention to protocol. But if you're going to make agent, you're really going to have to learn to make some judgment calls."

Max was shaking his head harder and looked like he was about to cry.

Clark thought for a moment. Agent Quinn was probably still below Special Agent Donn in the chain of command, and something was very wrong if Max even knew who Donn was. Getting Agent Quinn on the phone might blow things up, too, by removing the modicum of protection Clark currently had from following her orders.

But there might be a third option.

Clark hit a number that he'd saved in his phone, even as Max tried to grab it from him. He whispered to him: "Trust me, Max."

Max gripped the knife more tightly, and Clark _really _hoped that he wasn't about to be gutted by a serrated bread knife.

And then someone picked up on the other end.

Clark moved further away from the door and kept his voice low, but made sure that he would be heard through the phone. "Hey. I'm worried about losing a good snake. I've got the door locked, but there's this guy and he's got a gun and I don't think we've got time for the police to sort out which side they're on. Is there any chance you can help us out?"

Max was suddenly gazing up at Clark as though he were Superman.

As if.

At least the bread knife wasn't stuck between his ribs yet. Clark would take that as a win.

**00000**

**I'm not sure if they're in over their heads, but the water's getting fairly deep... And I'll enjoy hearing your thoughts immensely as I start working through chapter 22! **

**Aaaand I hope you have a lovely weekend! :)**

**-Button**


	22. Chapter 22

**Oh man, so my body and my docs had a miiiiinor disagreement about timing - and my body won. The procedure has happened, and I am in full-on recovery. This chapter was happily chugging right along before all of that, and I've been looking forward to sharing it. Your notes are loved, even as I fall off schedule (I know! Crazy times!) - and I sincerely hope to keep updating weekly, but if I'm two weeks off from here (end of June) for the next chapter, that would not be shocking.**

**Thank you so, so much for reading and reviewing. I'll send more notes to individuals when I am more in one piece. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"You are the coolest person ever." Max was sitting on the couch next to Clark, which was worlds away from where they'd begun the day. They'd each settled down with a book, and Trigger was very content to stand in front of the couch with his head in Max's lap so that he could enjoy non-stop stroking.

"I'm not so sure about that. I have literally never been told that by anyone before," Clark answered seriously, before he cracked a smile. "It's nice to hear, though. Thanks."

"Agent Quinn isn't going to mind that I'm in a gang now?" Max lifted his arms yet again, sliding the overly long sleeves of his leather jacket up his arms so that his hands reappeared. "I don't want to get kicked out of debriefing."

"Well, you can't really get kicked out, though I don't advise you to test anyone on that. Also, you're not in a gang, Max. You have a plain leather jacket and you're _honorarily _a Serpent." Clark had repeated this a few times, but it looked like Max was still too keyed up for the details to sink in fully. "It's like an honorary degree. You don't put it on your CV."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, so I'm just going to pretend you said I'm in the gang and that Agent Sarah is going to high-five me." Max grinned when Clark raised his eyebrows. "I mean, Banjo said I'm a Serpent, and he seemed to know more about it than you. Being that he is one and all."

"Banjo also said a lot of things to Special Agent Donn that weren't true. I hope you noticed that part."

"Best day ever." Max sighed contentedly. "Donn probably peed his pants."

Clark wasn't sure how much gloating he should be encouraging, especially since he wasn't sure how much trouble he was going to be in when Agent Quinn and Agent Williams got back, but it had been immensely satisfying to hear Banjo and a few other Serpents 'happen upon' Special Agent Donn and 'encourage' him not to continue demanding that Clark open the door.

If Donn had half a brain, it was obviously no coincidence. However, when it came to anything official, all that could really be said was that the Serpents didn't like a ruckus being made in the hallway of an apartment building that was located - maybe, possibly, theoretically - within their territory.

Donn had left in a hurry once it had gotten a little rough, and after the coast was clear Clark had let Banjo and his friends into the apartment.

They'd loved Max, and won him over instantly by feigning surprise and pointing out that Clark hadn't needed to call for backup since he'd had Trigger and Max already there - and still armed with the bread knife.

"Is this the little snake we came here to protect?" Banjo had rumbled warmly. "Because that would mean he needs a skin of his own to go with that jagged tooth of his. That is quite the signature weapon you've got there."

Clark was pretty sure that the bread knife had found its way into one of Max's tote bags after that. Oh well.

The jacket had no insignia, but was otherwise identical in design to those that the Serpents wore. It was an obvious compromise; those who knew would see the connection, but it would not act as a target on Max's back.

Clark had figured it was okay, and Max had been in the oversized jacket too quickly for him to have much choice about it regardless.

And, honorary Serpent or not, neither Max nor Clark had been sure how it worked now that they'd asked the Serpents for a favor. Banjo had seemed to sense that, and said something about never leaving a debt hanging.

"How's about you tell me what you're doing here and we call it square?" Banjo had said kindly. "The way I see it, we did you a big favor here - but it was fun. Curiosity is a powerful thing, too, so that should even us right up. Also," Banjo had lowered his voice conspiratorially, "I'm starting to see why you've played it close to the vest. Seems to have been a smart move. So, _do _you know FP Jones?"

"Yes!" Max had crowed before Clark could even process the question fully. "He has a motorcycle, but I didn't get to see it. How do you know him?"

Banjo was chuckling over the motorcycle comment, but did not miss Clark's concerned expression. "It's okay. I'll take it up with FP so you don't get into any trouble. I'll even tell him this little squirt was the one who said you knew him."

Max's eyes had become round once again once he realized that he'd misstepped.

Which had been very helpful, since Banjo's next question had been the obvious one: "Is FP in town? I can look him up tonight. He's always worth buying a drink or three for."

"Max and I don't have permission to share any details about FP's work. We're here because he can't be, so as you can imagine…" Clark trailed off, intentionally implying that FP was unable to be in Toronto and had sent Clark in his stead.

"Well. That does beat all. He has certainly found himself the cleanest cut representative the Serpents have ever had." Banjo's large laugh was infectious and his buddies joined in this time. "He always was… innovative. Good for him, getting someone like you. Another bad 'Penny' might have spelled disaster for him."

Clark figured Banjo was referring to the splinter faction; that made sense, as he'd likely been caught up in all of that when it extended into Montreal. Clark's reply was fervent: "No kidding. What a _nightmare_."

When the Serpents laughed uproariously, Clark deemed it wise not to ask any further questions.

Clark and Max promised to call if they needed anything else, and Clark said he'd tell FP about the clutch assistance they had given them once he had the opportunity - perhaps in a week or two. Banjo had seemed very pleased by that, and everyone had parted happily.

And now they needed to face the music.

"We brought pizza!" Agent Quinn's voice rang out as the apartment door opened. "How was your day? Oh, I see you let Trigger out of the room; that looks like it's going well."

Agent Quinn beamed down at the sight of Max sitting near Clark with a book on his lap. And then she looked quizzical. "I don't think I saw that jacket before. Are you chilly, Max?"

"Nope. I just like it, and I didn't want it to get crumpled in my bag if I left it there for too long." Max's face was the picture of innocence. "Pizza sounds great. Then can we walk Trig?"

When Trigger leapt up in response to the word 'walk,' Max managed to look genuinely surprised. "Oops. I think he knows that word. But if we all go together it should be really safe, and I've been cooped up with no real company all day. No offense, Clark, but watching you study is kind of boring."

Clark's jaw had dropped and now he turned to face Max on the couch.

Williams laughed as she entered the living room as well. "He's certainly got your number, Clark. But how did the pastries in the fridge get here if you've been 'cooped up' all day?"

"Did you know that some bakeries _deliver_?" Max's tone was overly awed and exuded sarcasm. "Welcome to the future, Agent Williams."

Quinn raised her eyebrows at Clark and she gave him a small, knowing smile that suggested that maybe, just maybe, she also had Max's number. That was a relief, since Clark was fast realizing that he might be in even further over his head with the teen than he'd known.

But it also suggested that there was going to be a long conversation later, about how the day had _actually _gone, and he'd have to make some decisions about how honest he needed to be.

And at this point, Clark felt like he ought to spill the beans. This was getting far too messy for him to be certain that he was making good decisions.

**00000**

FP was texting with Jughead again. It had made all the difference having this open line of contact to make them feel less like Jughead was imprisoned, though they all recognized that his role in Rose's household hovered somewhere between 'hostage' and 'trained monkey.' In any event, his son seemed to have been given the run of the house for the duration of his stay with Rose.

Jughead had just sent a photo of himself exploring the library and grinning as he held up a volume of out-of-print short stories that he wanted to read.

That one eerily featured an approving Dominic holding another volume in the background, observing the texting with a pleased smile.

There was another thread in their conversation that FP assumed would make more sense to Brandon - it sounded like one of those codes - but he hadn't had a chance to ask the younger man about it yet.

Brandon was working around the clock on the bust. He'd started to get nervous about Donn wriggling out from under the damning video footage, and FP was certain that neither of them had slept Sunday night.

Jughead on the other hand had slept like the dead, and complained good-naturedly when he awoke to a few dozen texts from Brandon's phone - courtesy of his father - but FP didn't need a translator to understand the subtext: that Jughead was pleased and reassured by the evidence that he had people watching over him through the night.

**00000**

Max had gone to bed for the night, insisting that he'd sleep better with Trig for company and 'white noise.' Agent Quinn was still chuckling over some of Max's phrasing and Clark's reactions long after Clark had explained most of the events of the day to her. He had some questions for her before he got into the touchy subject of Donn and his unexpected appearance.

"I really don't get it. We were getting along great, and then he just turned on a dime and pretended we hadn't done anything together." Clark shook his head.

"It's not about you, Clark, and it's not uncommon. For one thing, he knows you're not in charge here," Agent Quinn began to explain, her humor quickly replaced by expressive sympathy. "Max is protecting himself the best way he knows how, and a big part of that is figuring out how to keep from having any trouble fall on himself. It can seem very pathological, I know. And if you were his primary caregiver you might have laid a strong foundation today, based on what you're describing. But Max has been around the block; he knows you won't be with him for the long haul, and so he's looking out for number one."

"Oh." That actually made a lot of sense, and was sobering: it wasn't like Clark could make promises to Max. They might well be saying goodbye in just a day or two. "So, uh, a few other things happened. And you seem not to know anything about them, which means it's even more messed up than I thought."

"Oh?" Agent Williams was suddenly very alert as well. "Why would we know about them?"

"Special Agent Donn showed up here looking for Max, and he implied that he'd talked to you. To Agent Quinn specifically." Clark made a pained face when the two agents responded with astonishment, and he quickly related what Donn had said and done. "And, uh, so... I might have been at a biker bar a couple of times this week, and I sort of panicked and called a Serpent to see if he could just, you know, swing by and make it clear that disturbing the peace wasn't going to fly."

Agent Williams snorted with dark laughter. "Wow. Where do I even start? And you're seriously sitting here asking Sarah why Max lied? He covered _your _butt as well as his own. Man, I'd pay good money to see you in a biker bar." Williams turned to Sarah. "We need to call SAC Wilson. The internal investigation-,"

"Is something Clark has not been read into," Quinn interrupted smoothly. "You cannot call a biker gang on law enforcement, Clark. You were right to keep Donn out of the apartment, but he could make some serious trouble for you over this."

Clark nodded, ready to accept whatever came next. "I didn't know what to do, and my first priority was protecting Max. I know that my decisions were hasty, not ideal, and might have permanent repercussions for my future with the Bureau. I'll clear out my desk if I need to."

Agent Quinn's expression was strained. "You're right. It wasn't ideal. But I'll go to bat for you, and hopefully that won't be necessary. What exactly happened? We might have some wiggle room on how we frame this to Wilson, and I'm just going to say that Donn lacks the total and complete credibility that would typically sink you in a he-said, he-said scenario."

Clark was surprised to hear that, but then he recalled another piece of information. "You know, Max might not have the greatest credibility in this scenario either, but he said that he knew Special Agent Donn. He claimed that Donn was a liar and not actually law enforcement, and he seemed genuinely terrified - and ready to defend himself with deadly force if necessary. I mean, it was only a bread knife, so don't come down too hard on him or anything, but Max was definitely ready to do some damage if he had to."

Quinn and Williams exchanged glances.

"Okay. You're going to walk us through this step by step, and repeat exactly what was said. And then you'll probably be left out of the rest of this." Williams' tone had changed entirely, and was uncharacteristically supportive. "I'll go to bat for you too, Clark. It sounds like maybe you threaded a needle here, although we're going to have to be really careful about how it's presented in the report. Wilson is under a lot of scrutiny and pressure, and it wouldn't take much for you to become a scapegoat. However, I think we have a good chance of avoiding that, particularly if we can nail the _real _goat in this scenario."

Clark nodded again.

"Right. From the top: Donn knocked on the door, I assume?"

"Yeah. I pulled out my cell phone and, uh, said to wait for a minute. He'd knocked twice by then, because Max panicked and shut himself in the bedroom with Trigger, so I was distracted. Um, then I looked through the door to see who was there."

"Okay. What happened next?" Sarah asked.

Both agents leaned forward.

**00000**

"You are an amazing writer." Aaditi Wilson leaned forward over the table at Pop's Chock'Lit Shoppe and slid a marked-up document to Betty. "Have you ever had to do a massive rewrite job for no good reason?"

Betty cocked her head to one side skeptically. "I'm sorry. What?"

"I'm happy to walk you through this as slowly as you need, but I've already gotten the sense that you're more professional than some of the pros I've worked with, so I'm just as happy to let you do your thing with the edits." SAC Wilson smiled encouragingly. "I don't want to put too much on you, though, so take a look at my notes and we can talk through any changes that make you uncomfortable."

It had sounded like a nice break - both in the sense of a vacation and in the sense of an opportunity - to work with the FBI on the release of the footage of Clark's rescue and associated articles in lieu of some of the now-regular writing Betty had been doing for _The Register_. Having been granted a reprieve and slightly more time to work with the material had also been helpful, but Wilson had then asked for a draft - and Betty had thought that it was fairly polished.

The amount of red ink on the pages in front of her suggested that she had been quite mistaken in that impression.

"It's more to do with the... requirements of the situation than anything about your writing," Wilson assured Betty. "Take a look. Like I said, we can go over it and talk it through together."

Betty managed a weak smile, and they both reached for their coffee cups in mirror-image gestures.

"There is another thing we need to discuss," SAC Wilson set her coffee back on the table. "You had reservations about anything being published without Jones and Davies reading it first."

"Actually," Betty corrected Wilson, "you might recall that I _refuse _to publish the article without them reading it first."

"Well, we need to talk about that too. I'm afraid they won't be signing off on the article before it's published."

Betty frowned. This was getting more complicated by the minute.

**00000**

Rose summoned Jughead to dinner on Monday evening. It was a lot less scary sitting with him at the table now that they'd discovered a few topics of conversation where they had interests in common; for instance, they both loved to read, and Jughead found that Rose had unusual insights about a lot of literature.

It was a very weird thing to discover.

"Jones, I understand that you enjoy cooking as well." Rose indicated the stuffed pasta they were both eating. "Have you done much with seafood?"

"No. Not a lot," Jughead replied. He took another large bite - it tasted like lobster had been used in the stuffing, and it was quite possibly the most delicious pasta dish he'd ever had. "This is _really _good."

"I'm glad you like it." Rose smiled, pleased. "I'll have my cook teach you to make it. Perhaps you would be interested in preparing some flounder as well; that's my personal favorite. I'll suggest it for tomorrow's lunch."

"That sounds good." Jughead wasn't sure he'd had flounder before, but the opportunity to learn how to cook new dishes seemed like a great way to pass the time. He was getting closer to the finish line, and he was increasingly aware that every hour brought him nearer to being done.

"I have a gift for you, too." Rose watched Jughead closely, as if he wanted to study his reaction.

"Uh, you mentioned that. But you don't have to-,"

"Obviously." Rose waved a hand dismissively. "I was planning to give Brandon a gift, even before I had any thought of him coming to Toronto for a visit, but it was lost in transport. Then I thought that, considering the updated circumstances surrounding you, giving you a gift might serve much the same function."

Jughead was lost.

Maybe Rose literally meant that since he was not going to murder Jughead and all of his friends and family, a gift for Jughead was sort of a gift for Brand. He wasn't sure that made any sense, and if that _was _what Rose meant it was insanely creepy that he was saying it so brazenly, but Jughead nodded along anyway.

"When we're finished eating, I'll introduce you."

As he processed the word 'introduce,' Jughead's mind suddenly went to Max. Had Rose… _acquired _a human as a gift for Brand? And, if so, that raised mind-boggling possibilities for what he had planned as a gift for Jughead.

The pasta suddenly sat heavily in Jughead's stomach.

"The breeders were reluctant to part with her, but she can't be shown so I'm not certain what sort of offer they thought they were holding out for." Rose shook his head. "Ah, well. I convinced them and now you will have her."

Jughead was abruptly relieved and painfully curious.

"Have you seen a Panda Shepherd before, young man?"

"I'm not even sure what one is," Jughead answered.

"You're in for a treat. They are rare, beautiful, and something I think you will prize." Rose continued eating his dinner. "When you want to impress someone, this is the dog that I think you will show them."

Jughead wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he took another bite of the rich pasta.

"Moreover, if you care to breed, this would set you up nicely. They would be purebreds, and it's likely that many of the puppies would take after their mother in terms of coloration."

Rose's tone was a little too casual now, and he eyed Jughead expectantly. He seemed to be waiting for something - and Jughead realized that he had not yet expressed his thanks. Oops.

"Wow. Thank you. That sounds really great. I think Trigger would be fantastic to breed, and this dog sounds awesome." Jughead was relieved when Rose smiled again, clearly pleased by his reaction.

When they left the table and Rose led him to another room that contained an enormous kennel that held a small puppy, Jughead didn't have to make an effort to be effusive in his thanks.

"How did you ever find her? I've never seen a German Shepherd that looks like this." Jughead waited for Rose to nod his permission, but then he crouched down and reached eagerly into the kennel to pick up the pup. "What's her name?"

"Whatever you want it to be." Rose smiled down at him. "Brandon is right about one thing. This is… rewarding."

"What is?" Jughead looked up, the puppy now cradled in his hands just under his chin and licking him happily.

"Working with you." Rose stared at Jughead slightly longer than was comfortable. "You have a certain something."

"Well, right now it's a puppy." Jughead grinned when Rose let out a surprised laugh at the unexpected humor. "I love her. I'll think of a name. Thank you."

"She'll be cared for by my staff until you're collected by Brandon. You should get to know her, though, so I'll have her kept in your room when she's not being fed or exercised. She's only just reached eight weeks of age, and I'm told that her temperament is as promising as her appearance."

Jughead nodded, his face rubbing against the puppy's fur as he did so. "I can already tell. Thanks again."

"I'll leave you to it." Rose turned to exit the room. He hesitated just before he passed through the doorway, though. "And Jones, do me a favor. Send Brandon a photo of the pup tonight. I know you enjoy texting, and I'd like him to know that I gave her to you."

"Okay," Jughead agreed. "I'll do that right now."

"Excellent." Rose gave Jughead one last smile before he retired for the evening.

"What am I going to name you?" Jughead returned his focus to the distinctly marked puppy. "Brand will have all of the worst ideas, and probably want to call you pestilence or roadkill. I might need Clark's help with naming you."

He snapped a few photos with his phone and texted them to Brand. He wasn't entirely sure who would receive the text, since Brand and his dad had obviously been handing Brand's phone back and forth, but it became obvious when he received a reply.

'Oh my aching soul. Rose got you another dog? Be extremely grateful, kid. Overdo it. God only knows how much he paid for that mutt.'

Jughead read the reply text and nodded wryly to himself; he'd already figured that part out.

A second text came in from Brand: 'Is it even the same breed as Trigger? Man, that thing is weird looking. Or your phone camera's broken.'

'She's a Panda Shepherd. I'm supposed to breed her with Trigger and show her off to impress people.'

'Oy. Sounds like Rose. It looks bizarre in that expensive way. Add that to plying you with caffeine - worst babysitter ever. Remember: overdo it on the gratitude. We'll figure out details later.'

'Nothing to figure out. Two dog family now.' Jughead grinned to himself as he nuzzled the puppy again.

'We'll see. Maybe. Glad you're having fun, killer, and making friends. Hang tight.'

'Doing my best.' Jughead slid his phone back into his pocket.

**00000**

Donn had more than just his ego bruised.

This was supposed to have been Davies' position: ousted from the FBI in disgrace, cut off from Rose's gravy train, and bereft of his loyal servant-trainee. Or whatever Max might have had the potential to be in a few years.

Instead, it was painfully obvious that Davies was about to cash out on all fronts. He was reeling in Rose, feeding lines to the FBI, and he even had the Jones kid traveling with him on the wrong side of an international border. It was so clearly Brandon's endgame for taking up Rose's mantle, complete with multiple insurance policies, as to be almost crass in its execution.

Because Brandon Davies had not just brought an FBI presence as insurance, no doubt with the promise of some very hot water if Rose gave any indication whatsoever of cold feet. He'd apparently also recruited the Serpents to back his play, which in many ways could be an even more potent threat to Rose's empire.

Donn frowned as his back throbbed even harder in response to his rising blood pressure exacerbating his injuries. The Serpents had not been gentle, and the entire encounter had been wildly disturbing.

Most disturbing of all was the fact that Donn could not see a clear way to use this information. If he returned to Rose, he'd be rightly accused of having an agenda: wanting to get back into Rose's good graces. Anything that he said would be suspect, and the idea that Davies had ties to the FBI would be seen as old news.

Clark's presence in Toronto, and the easily verified information that he was traveling with Quinn and Williams was only mildly interesting; Donn had no idea what they were supposedly - officially - doing in Canada, and it made perfect sense that Davies would hand Max off once Jones turned up with the stray. That part could be entirely meaningless, and Rose would point that out in a heartbeat.

The fact that Clark of all people had been given instructions to work with the Serpents in the event that Donn tried to reclaim his property was the most interesting detail - and, unfortunately, the one that Rose would find least salient. He did not know Clark and the slavish way that the intern followed orders, and so Rose would be far too inclined to suggest that there were possible explanations other than official FBI directives to call on the Serpents for backup.

There was one other way to pitch this that was guaranteed to get Rose's attention, but it would be a very high risk approach. It did not help that Donn was not entirely sure why Rose was sparing Jones a second glance, aside from his interest in fully understanding Davies before retiring.

Because Donn knew that there was an extremely complicated morass of bad blood between Jones' father and Rose that, by rights, should have destroyed not only the kid's prospects with Rose, but Brandon's as well.

Unfortunately there was no sign of FP Jones anywhere in the picture, so any pitch that Davies was trying to blow up everything for Rose on every possible level would be a challenge to even articulate before Rose had Donn kicked out of his house - or worse.

A bullet in Donn's head was not unlikely if he turned up unannounced after Rose's recent declarations.

It stung to realize how little he had to lose, though, and Donn could not help but suspect that Rose had somehow caught wind of the turns that the FBI's internal investigation had taken in Donn's general direction. Getting rid of Donn just as he was likely to become significantly less useful - and would shortly be significantly more reliant on Rose's good pleasure - was the kind of 'coincidence' that had made Rose so powerful for so many years.

The plausible deniability was cloying enough to choke an elephant.

And sufficient to keep a criminal empire satisfied that Rose was fair, and that any similar ousting would _never_ befall the undeserving.

The cheapest shot of all was perhaps the only one left, then.

If Donn could suggest that FP Jones were in town, that would indicate treachery - particularly when combined with the facts that the FBI and Serpents had united into one force, and that Brandon was demonstrably working with them per Max.

Persuading Rose of that would be impossible. He demanded evidence, and even Davies wasn't such a wild card that he'd actually jeopardize his meal ticket with Rose so brazenly; the odds-on bet was that FP did not even know where his son was or with whom he was traveling.

The easier route by far would be persuading others in Rose's network that all of this was playing out under the man's nose, and that he was either oblivious or blinded by his affection for Davies' flashy style and eccentric sidekick.

That might goad the old man into action. Force his hand.

Donn might not yet see a way in which he could benefit directly, but there was always satisfaction in knowing that one was not going down alone.

**00000**

**I hope you enjoyed! Stay healthy, and don't worry - I'm committed and will be around, despite the change in plans. :)**

**I hope that you have a wonderful weekend!**

**-Button**


	23. Chapter 23

**Recovery when a timeline is moved up unexpectedly for health reasons = yikes. But I have a chapter for you all, which makes me feel fantastic! Fair warning: I'm likely going to continue being inconsistent, or mayyyybe consistently every other week. We shall see! Thank you so much for being so incredibly encouraging and supportive. :)**

**Copy-Nin's Daughter, welcome! Thank you so much for the kind review, and the amazing compliments and feedback on the story. I have been nervous about OCs as well, since there are probably cardinal rules of fanfiction somewhere(?) that say not to have as many (certainly not as centrally!) as I have collected over time. I just get too attached... :) And yes, the breed is so cute! I hope you enjoy as things continue to heat up in this chapter... :)**

**Living Lucid Dream, I'm so glad you're enjoying Banjo and the Canadian Serpents! I find them a refreshingly different angle on the Serpents, since they've got their issues but those are different from the ones that arise in Riverdale. Clark will hopefully come out of this okay, too; he's doing his best, and thinking on his feet fairly well all told (mostly :). Betty's definitely got a role here; I am not sure how big it will end up being, but that is definitely brewing! Also, Rose wanted to get Jug a puppy back when Trigger first disappeared; I think he never quite forgot about that, and he seems to like his associates 'reflecting well' on him in random ways. But still - it was unexpected for sure! FP is about to become very central to things, too, and I'm looking forward to that! Thank you so much for the good wishes on my health. I really, really appreciate it! :)**

**Skyrider45, I loved how you cheered everyone on with the Max/Clark/Banjo/Donn interactions and fallout. I think Clark and Max are sweet together too, as they try to figure each other out. :) I'm curious about where Max will wind up, because it would be neat for him and Clark to remain connected. I guess we'll see! FP as concerned dad is amazing, I totally agree. :-D He's getting to shine a bit more as we go, too! Also, fantastic analysis of the gift, Brand, and what might have been 'lost in transport.' I have maintained a light touch with Max's arc because it's so dark (even for me, yikes), so not everything is 100% settled for his back story, but what you caught was definitely the version that Jughead caught from those cryptic comments. Rose seems to view most things (and people) as somewhat interchangeable. Thank you so much for the encouragement, too! I really love being predictable and on a schedule, perhaps to a fault (oops), and as I'm learning to be more flexible it is really encouraging to hear that everyone's so patient. :) I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"Do you need something, Jones?" A man whom Jughead did not recognize stepped into the unoccupied bedroom behind him, and the teen startled badly. "I can give you directions, or I could help you get something."

"Uh, no." Jughead quickly fell into his best impression of someone who felt entitled to walk into other people's bedrooms without permission or supervision. This was one of the few times when Rose and Brand having much-deserved reputations for being idiosyncratic, volatile, and highly unpredictable was working for him. He gestured down to the leashed puppy dancing around his ankles. "Thank you, but I'm just letting her sniff out the place as thoroughly as possible. As a foundation for her training. Why? Is there some sort of a 'west wing' that I should be staying out of? Rose didn't mention-,"

"No. No, not at all. Nothing is off limits, from what I was told. It's fine." The man looked both puzzled by Jughead's explanation and nervous that he was about to get into trouble for engaging him in conversation. "I'm just happy to help if you are looking for anything."

"Great. I'm not." Jughead looked at him expectantly until he retreated from the room.

Jughead breathed deeply and found himself wishing that he and Brand had taught his dad a few more codes - or at least how to recognize when one of them was making up a code, so that FP could tell Brand and give his godfather the phone for five minutes.

Because it was pretty obvious that Brand had no idea what Jughead was up to. There would have been some degree of mocking, probably a lecture, and then advice on how to pull off his maneuver more safely - and effectively.

But as it stood, Jughead was stuck with what he'd been able to come up with on his own.

There was very little that Jughead felt he could or should do while in Rose's house, but his freedom to roam had been basically absolute. Much like the man who had surprised him in this room, people were around Rose's property, but they tended to get out of his way. It was obvious that Rose had put the fear of God into everyone on the premises.

And so, increasingly tense (and, honestly, slightly bored), Jughead had leashed up the puppy, led her through the house as a distracting cover for the true purpose of his wanderings, and begun taking crazy risks just to make himself feel useful and like he was slightly less of a pawn.

He'd been inspired when he noticed a few boxes of blanks in various forms tucked away with some live ammunition in a closet near the kitchen where he'd been treated to cooking lessons earlier in the day. He had realized that he could use those to replace live rounds in any guns he could turn up, and that would help the FBI - and having the blanks meant that it would not be a dead giveaway the moment someone picked up a gun.

Any criminals would need to actually shoot before it was painfully obvious that a saboteur had invaded the household.

And so Jughead had spent the last several hours entering rooms and locating firearms. Ammunition. And disarming everything he found, secreting the ammunition in a pillowcase and then dumping it all through one grate in his room.

That meant searching room after room, though, and shaking out one after another suspiciously heavy pillowcase over an air vent and watching dozens - hundreds - literally pounds - of bullets disappear down through the floor with muted metal tinging sounds.

It was almost tempting to drop a lit match down there to see what happened.

Jughead would wait for Brand to light that match, though.

**00000**

Fred looked at Archie's overly innocent expression and knew that he had to talk with him. It just figured he'd somehow divine where his father had been and what he'd been doing.

"So it's pretty cool, huh?" Archie had been explaining the concert in Toronto while Mary looked on approvingly and interjected with details here and there.

"It is, Archie. It's very impressive, and I'm excited for you." Fred hesitated. "Why do you want to be in Toronto for so long, though?"

Archie shrugged. "As long as we're there and have the time, we might as well make it fun. And educational."

"Ahh, educational," Fred echoed with a smile. "Nothing to do with Jughead, then?"

Archie looked up eagerly. "He _is _there? Did you see him? Is he okay?"

Mary looked disconcerted, so Fred gave her a reassuring look and a wry smile. "I suppose it's somehow our fault that he's so sharp."

Smiling at that comment, Mary turned to Archie. "Now, Archie, I thought you were really interested in opening for this band. It's simply not professional to-,"

"Oh, we are interested, Mom," Archie hastened to reassure her. "It's just a... _bonus _if we can see Jug too."

"_We_?" Fred echoed. "You've talked to the others about this?" Things had been so odd in Toronto that he really was not at all sure that any of this was a good idea.

"No. 'We' are excited about the concert. And 'we' would see Jughead. But I'm the only one who figured out that's where you were." Archie's innocent expression had returned in full force.

Fred and Mary exchanged glances, and Fred could tell when Mary realized there was more going on here that Fred knew about that she would need to be let in on - and not where Archie could overhear.

"Let me talk to your father about this, Arch," Mary said. "Then the three of us can talk more over dinner."

Fred nodded gratefully, and Archie looked from one to the other suspiciously, but with resignation. "All right."

He could use that time to call Veronica and let her know not to let on about their plan to locate and visit with Jughead in Toronto.

**00000**

Jughead had another load of ammunition to dispose of, so he was right over the vent when he heard voices through it - coming from right outside of his room.

"I'd lay money on it being Donn. That guy has snapped, and he'd make up anything at this point."

"Rose thought so. He all but laughed in Tom's face. But there were a few things that didn't add up, and Tom's not an idiot."

"He found proof?"

"He found _something_. Rose is doing a one-eighty on the kid, and I'm not sure Brand is going to survive this."

"Brand I get. Bringing FP Jones and the Serpents in on anything is liable to get Rose shooting first and asking questions later. And I get that the kid might go down with Brand, since they've been joined at the hip for a while now. But why on earth would the kid go down without Brand?"

"He's FP's son."

There was a long silence.

"Huh. Rose… might be right about retiring." One of the men had lowered his voice to make the comment, but Jughead could still make out his words. "How did he _think _this was going to end?"

"The same way FP and Brand think it's going to end, if Tom is right. It sounds like everyone is digging in to see who will blink if the kid's locked into the middle of everything."

"What does FP get out of this if he does blow things up with Rose?"

"You said it yourself. Everyone will want Rose out. Retired, sure, but maybe ousted if it turns out that he's gotten us into something with the Serpents. They've got a real presence in Montreal too, you know, and the American Serpents are-,"

"Yeah. I've heard." The man's tone was dark. "So what exactly does Rose want us to do?"

"He's taking a few deep breaths. Having some tea. We're supposed to stay here until he has further instructions."

"How long is-,"

"I wouldn't guess more than a few minutes. Rose likes to think things through, but he's usually quick about it."

Jughead backed away from the grate slowly and silently. His eyes went to his bedroom door, which was now apparently being guarded from the outside. Until 'further instructions' came.

He groped for his cell phone with one hand, and used his other hand to steer the puppy into her kennel. If she was in there, chances were nobody would hurt her by mistake, or in a fit of anger.

Jughead slipped into the en suite bathroom and locked himself in there before he hit the button to dial Brand's phone.

**00000**

Betty had sat with the article edits for ages, and they still did not make sense. In fact, something must have changed, since the new feedback contradicted some of the original directions that Betty had been given.

SAC Wilson definitely had an agenda - and had delayed the release of the write-up yet again, for unknown reasons - but none of it was clear even after Betty tried thinking it through from multiple perspectives.

The only theory that might fit was that Wilson might be trying to obscure Jughead's emergency and need for medical attention. That would make some of the changes make sense. Not that anything about Jughead's health was included in the write-up, but Wilson's edits had made the story so toothless and unremarkable, in spite of its very compelling content, that Betty got the sense that she was trying to keep from having attention drawn to the story.

The story needed to go out, since whatever arrangement the FBI had with the other writer who wanted to cover the events demanded it, but at this point Betty wondered if anyone not paying close attention would even realize that it was Jughead and Brand - _the _'Jonas' and Brand Davies - when the story did go live with the footage.

It was such an abrupt turnaround.

However, Betty ultimately had to admit that the changes could not hurt Jughead or Brand. They really only protected their privacy and identity to an extent, downplaying their roles and the entire incident. Mr. Jones and Clark had become much more central, and Betty had been surprised but proud when Wilson gave her some effusive quotes to add about Clark's promise and ability.

Betty was pretty sure that Clark was still embarrassed about the whole thing, so that was really nice - however slanted a perspective on his role and actions those quotes represented.

It was also kind of nice that the edits ended up being relatively simple, even though they were pervasive. Betty would have them all done before she went with the Andrews family and the band to Toronto, a place she'd been curious about for some time now.

Betty leaned back in her chair and sent another brief update text to Jughead. She understood that he was not likely feeling up to responding, but she liked the idea of the messages being there for him whenever he did feel better.

It still felt amazing to be able to close with 'I love you,' too. Betty smiled as she clicked send on her phone, and her smile persisted as she clicked send on the latest draft of the press release - and while she began packing for the trip.

**00000**

"Brand, they know. Someone found out that Dad's in town, and they know." In the scant seconds it had taken Jughead to secure his puppy and move into the bathroom, panic had begun welling up in him. He wasn't sure what to do next, and the idea of just _waiting _for someone to come for him was terrifying.

"Kid, that's not good." Brand sounded like he was trying to hide how worried he was. Another bad sign.

"You _think_?" Jughead leaned his head backward against the door to his bathroom. "I'm in the room Rose gave me, in the bathroom. Maybe I'm already locked in, or maybe they're coming to get me. What do I do?"

"Is there a window?"

"Nope."

"How close are you to one, or to any exit from the house?"

"I'm basically in a cell, Brand. I can't get out without going past people who work for Rose. Do I bluff and try to make a run for it?" Jughead thought of the puppy. He would hardly be slowed at all if he took her with him, but he made the snap decision not to mention that idea to Brand. "Or should I just stay put and barricade? How far away are you?"

"Far enough. They'd get through a barricade, and I'm not sure we can bank on them taking it easy on you after that." Brand's voice sounded bleak when he dropped any pretense of being calm. "Listen to me, Jones. I think you might need to play dumb, cooperate, and give them any information they ask for. Try to delay any details about the bust itself, but if you have to, start giving up information about the FBI. This development means that the bust has to happen right now."

Jughead nodded into the phone, reassured but still shaky enough that he wasn't thinking clearly. Brand continued talking when he did not immediately hear a response.

"Delaying is helpful, don't get me wrong, and it buys us some time and gives us more options - but there is _very _limited utility in your getting hurt to protect a plan that's officially in process. Remember the basics: your dad is here on vacation with you, he knows nothing about your ties to Rose, and I'm the one who told you not to mention FP to Rose. Keep it simple, keep it close to the truth, and just get your head down and keep it down."

"Okay." Jughead nodded again. "Okay; I can do that. You'll be here soon?"

"Kid, I'm already moving."

Jughead heard the door to his room open.

"Someone just came in without knocking," Jughead lowered his voice to a whisper and turned on the water in the shower. "I'm going to get in the shower. That should buy me another few minutes."

"That's smart thinking. Remember, keep yourself in one piece. Do whatever you have to. This is one time when it's okay to give up information, because we're coming for you. Right now."

"Uh-huh." Jughead was already shucking off his shirt and slipping his feet out of his sneakers, but he continued to whisper into the phone. "I love you, Brand. Tell Dad and Betty and everyone that I love them too."

"I love you too, kid, and so does your dad and everyone else. We're coming right this second to tell you in person. Do me a favor and stay alive for us."

"Yeah. We're almost home free." Jughead's whisper had a catch in it as he considered how close to - and how far away from - freedom they finally were.

"You bet." Brand's voice was back to being firm and reassuring. "Go now; don't let anyone catch you on the phone. I'm on my way."

Jughead ended the call and slid his phone into his pants pocket and dropped the khakis to the floor before he hopped into the shower. Hopefully that would be less conspicuous and nobody would realize that he'd gotten a call out to Brand.

**00000**

Brand's hands were not cooperating. It took him a long, disconcerting moment to realize that was because they were shaking - hard.

FP had just walked into his room and was staring at him, waiting for any information about the call they'd just received, and it suddenly felt like Brand should be able to stop everything - call a time out - and somehow keep FP ignorant of the fact that everything was actively coming apart. For all of them.

But there was no time.

"You need to get Trigger. We need to get that dog right now, because Rose has Jones trapped somewhere in that mausoleum of a house and we need the ability to find him. Now."

FP's eyes went wide. Brand braced himself, because this was only the beginning.

"You have to stay with the FBI. You need to work with them and you need to come in with them, FP." Brand took a steadying breath. "You're going to hear from Rose. That's coming any minute, and it's going to be the most terrifying threat you can possibly imagine - and I need you to ignore it. You have to let me work, and you have to let the FBI work, or we're never going to get Jones out of Rose's grip. That will be _it _for him, because we'll _never _get another shot. You hear me?"

FP was nodding, but Brand was pretty sure that when Rose contacted FP and offered to murder his son slowly and painfully while he was on the line, this exchange was going to mean very little.

Unfortunately, there was nothing for it.

"All right. You're getting Trigger, and you're getting to the FBI. Stay with them. It won't be in time, and I'm sorry about that, but you should give your phone to Agent Quinn as soon as you can. Ignore whatever Rose tells you. He'll put Jones on the phone-,"

Brand saw that idea hit FP like a cinder block, and he hoped against hope that he was preparing the man for the horrors to come and not weakening his resolve.

"-and your son is going to beg you to cooperate. It's going to be bad. You have to give me a chance to get in there without you cutting any deals, though, or we're going to lose him. You buy me time now, and then I'm going to buy time for the FBI to get in there."

Brand felt his breath coming a little shorter as he kept talking while he began gathering a few items that might prove useful. "If I can't get him out myself, that means the FBI has to get us both out. That's where Trigger's going to come in handy, because we won't want to waste any time. But you and I know that the kid will have a better chance of staying in one piece if there's two of us, and we both know that Jones is the bargaining chip. Rose will prefer to take a run at me if he's given a choice of targets."

This time FP's nod was jerky.

"If it helps, remember that he knew this was a possibility. Jones believed that it was worth facing down the danger. You have to believe that he made the right decision, and that it's still the right one for him." Brand had to go, but this conversation might mean the difference between FP getting it together - or him pulling the pin and exploding everything while Brand was in the middle of the extraction - or distraction, whatever his role ended up being.

"_No_. He knew _nothing_ about what could happen." FP shook his head, and suddenly he seemed to have shaken off his shock. He was alive with fury and determination. "Go, Brandon. Run. Jughead had no clue about the possibilities if this went sideways. Let's keep it that way."

Well then.

Brand wasn't going to get better assurances of FP's cooperation than that. He took off running.

**00000**

**The good news: even if I wanted to, how could I keep from writing the next chapter? :) I'm super eager to find out what happens next! As I am able, I'll be working on that and on bringing everyone to Toronto... The kitchen sink is going to be installed more slowly than anticipated, but it's in the works! :-D I'll greatly enjoy any and all reviews, and I so appreciate your continuing to read along!**

**I hope you're having a lovely weekend!**

**-Button**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-four! Woo-hoo!**

**Thanks so much for your lovely and encouraging review, Living Lucid Dream! :) Jughead is definitely making some smart moves now, and entering more into the mode of 'full partner' that Brand envisioned, even if your comment about FP and custody is still in effect for another eleven months due to his age - and he really is still handling an awful lot for a teenager, I agree. I'm so glad that you liked the chat over the phone and the puppy details! Brand will hopefully be okay, but we shall see. I think he's with you: facing up to the fact that it might not end so well for him, and that's just how it is. Things are coming to a head now... I'll look forward to hearing your thoughts! :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"Wait, I'm not going to debriefing?" Max's head snapped up from where he was devouring a third bowl of Cheerios. Agents Quinn and Williams had given Clark a brief script for this conversation since they hadn't wanted to awaken Max before they headed into the city for the day to follow up on whatever vague update (both agents had complained about a lack of detail) had disrupted their plan for getting Max stateside right away.

Clark hadn't been read into what was happening, or coached on how to react to Max's response to this information - but even without any guidance, he thought that Max looked suspiciously excited about this news.

"No-o. You're still going. It's just a delay, and only because something came up at the last minute. Apparently I'm cleared to babysit, but not to escort you across international borders." Clark shrugged. "Who knew?"

"Babysit?" Max's eyes were narrowed yet again. "You better be talking about Trigger."

"Um, sure. He's a very young dog, yeah." Clark smiled, relieved by the fact that Max seemed more upset by his choice of words than the unexpected change in plans. Agent Quinn had warned him that Max might become reactive if he thought that arrangements were in any way unstable, so Clark had been bracing himself for a scene. "I'm a decent... _bodyguard _when it comes to you, I guess."

"Eh, you're okay. Banjo's better, though. The FBI should hire him." Max gave Clark an aloof look before a grin broke through and he returned to shoveling cereal into his mouth. A few moments later he looked up again. "I'm just kidding, Clark. Chill out. You were loaded for bear when Donn came; he's totally lucky you delegated to Banjo, because it probably saved his skin."

Clark could not tell whether Max was being sarcastic or not, so he left that declaration well enough alone.

Max took another bite of Cheerios and grimaced. "Who even likes this stuff? There are so many better cereals."

"Well, _you _appear to like it well enough to have thirds. Just for instance," Clark shot back teasingly. "But hey, I can always put the box away if you're having trouble choking it down."

"Nah. Someone's got to eat it before it goes bad," Max pronounced. He tugged the cereal box a little closer to himself on the table. "So… try not to overreact, but honey is really good on cereal."

Clark raised an eyebrow. Surprisingly, given their meager supplies, there was honey in the small kitchen. "I'll try not to. Would it be overreacting if I asked you to go easy on it?"

"Yep." Max grinned again.

"Well, then. I wouldn't want to be accused of that." Clark smiled in return as he went to the cupboard and then handed over the honey without protest.

Just then his phone buzzed loudly.

"Hello?" Clark listened intently, and tried to keep his face neutral as Max dropped his spoon and seemed to forget all about the plastic honey bear in his grasp as he watched Clark nervously. "He texted you? Uh, thanks for letting me know. I'm not super comfortable with letting anyone in, though, so if you could get here first, that would be-,"

Clark waited as more was explained.

"Okay. I guess that's fine then. I'll only open the door for him. But it would still be good if you hurried. Bye." Clark waved a hand reassuringly toward Max, but that didn't even slow the teen down as he grabbed his bowl, the box of cereal, and the honey. It took him two swift trips to get his food and Trigger into the bedroom, which was just long enough for Clark to wedge a foot in the way to keep the door open - and unlocked.

"Max, wait. That was Agent Quinn, and-,"

"You're letting Donn in here?" Max's tone was accusing and Clark didn't need to look into the bedroom to know that the bread knife was back in play. "You should know that the Serpents - my _gang _\- won't like hearing that."

"No. No way; Donn's long gone. Someone's coming here to, uh, pick up Trigger." Clark wasn't dumb; there was obviously a whole lot more going on than that. But he could tell Max that part, at least.

"It's okay, boy. I won't let anyone take you." Max's tone had changed, and apparently he was now addressing Trigger. Then he raised his voice to speak to Clark again: "I don't think that's a good idea. He's attached to us now."

Clark didn't roll his eyes, but he did open the bedroom door all the way and went inside to sit on his own bed, across the room from Max and Trigger. "Look, I can't tell you details right now, but I promise you're not leaving me until Agent Quinn is back here and makes arrangements to get you to debriefing." Clark motioned to the bread knife in Max's grip. "So for now, you watch my back and I'll watch yours. Deal?"

Max sighed. "I guess. Can I use your gun, since you'd probably be better with a knife in a fight?"

"Wow. Let me think about that. _No_." Clark gave Max a look.

"Worth a shot."

"Fair enough."

Clark watched Max set his cereal bowl down on an end table and drizzle quite a bit of honey over it.

"It's organic," Max responded to Clark's dubious expression with a smirk.

"All natural, sure," Clark smiled in return. "Maybe I'll try some."

Max's smirk turned into a smile. "You should do it before Agent Quinn and Agent Williams get back. They're sort of judgy."

Clark snorted with amusement. "Well, eating healthy is part of their job."

"I can't believe you want a job where you can't eat _honey_." Max shook his head ruefully.

"In life there are tradeoffs," Clark replied. "I think it will be worth it. And I'll just have to drown my cereal in honey while I still can, huh?"

"Good plan." Max got up and started back toward the kitchen. "Let's get you a bowl. I'll make it for you and show you the best ratio of honey to cereal."

"The golden ratio?" Clark couldn't help but crack the joke in response.

Max gave Clark an aggrieved look. "Is that another nerd joke?"

"I'll explain," Clark promised as he followed Max into the kitchen, "but first, why don't you show me what I've been missing."

**00000**

Jughead was in the shower when the locked bathroom door was forced open. He jumped at the sudden noise, but hoped that nobody noticed because of the opaque shower curtain. He needed to play it cool.

"Can I _help _you?" Jughead managed an arch tone, even though he was having trouble keeping his breathing from getting away from him.

There were two men in the spacious bathroom. One began gathering Jughead's clothing from the floor.

"You're wanted. Rose would like to see you." When the second man spoke he sounded completely unperturbed, and he left the bathroom while the first man arranged Jughead's clothing into a tidy pile on the counter next to the sink.

"You have two minutes." The first man began to leave the bathroom as well, but then finished his thought: "After that we tell Rose that you're not up to caring for a dog and it needs to be put down."

Jughead hadn't thought he'd buy a whole lot of time with this maneuver, but that was depressingly little. He was out of the shower and dressed in under sixty seconds.

"Okay; I'm here. Leave her alone." Jughead blanched when he saw that the two already had the puppy out of the kennel.

"Bingo," said the second man with some satisfaction. "That worked like a charm. I guess she'll be coming with us to make sure you behave."

Jughead frowned, not sure if he'd protected the pup or put her in the crosshairs with his actions.

Maybe both.

The men motioned for him to precede them into the hallway, and then they cuffed his arms behind his back. Jughead was relieved to recall that in all of his preparations for worst case scenarios, he'd hidden a pin in his pants pocket to help him pick handcuffs if the need arose.

That relief did not last long, though.

They entered the same plush, red-upholstered room that Jughead had been brought to by Donn. Rose barely looked up at them from where he was sitting.

"Tie him up so that it's impossible to escape - and so that even if he _does _escape his bonds he won't be able to walk. He's been trained by Brandon, so I daresay you won't regret investing in some redundancy." Rose scrolled through something on his phone as he spoke.

Jughead paled, but he did not resist when the man who was not holding the puppy guided the teen to sit cross-legged on the floor and tied his ankles together - and then pushed the back of his neck down until Jughead was essentially folded in half at the waist, his nose shockingly close to his crossed ankles, and his neck and shoulders secured to his legs with a thin rope so that he was held strictly in that position.

It was all different muscles, but it already felt reminiscent of his leg being pulled apart by the roller coaster when his bootlace had gotten snagged.

"That will do for now. Put the puppy back in his room," Rose directed. "There's no need for collateral damage, and Jones is not going to mount any resistance as long as he's effectively restrained. Then we'll make a phone call."

Jughead closed his eyes tightly, hoping that would help him to block out some of the rapidly escalating pain shooting through his neck, shoulders, and back. His legs were starting to ache, too, and he had a feeling that was going to get a whole lot worse. Maybe quickly.

"What's your father's number, Jones?" Rose asked. He sounded conversational, genuinely curious, and his tone was no different than it had been throughout the few days that Jughead had spent with him.

Jughead thought of Brand's directions to cooperate and, ironically, to 'keep his head down.' He clenched his jaw against the pain and rattled off his dad's cell phone number.

"Great. We'll be quick so that you're still capable of speaking coherently," Rose suggested, as if he was proposing that they not let dinner get cold.

Jughead kept his eyes closed as Rose dialed, trying to picture Brand coming. His dad coming. The FBI coming. He could do this. They would be here any second to help him and to put Rose in prison. Hopefully forever.

His left shoulder began screaming in pain, and Jughead tried to shift in the ropes to see if he could relieve any amount of tension from it.

It was immediately apparent that no amount of struggling was going to lessen the strain.

Jughead heard a small, frightened noise choke off in his own throat. His vision of Brand coming into the room morphed into a vision of Brand shooting Rose where he stood - and ideally cutting Jughead free in the same motion.

That thought helped a little.

Jughead set his jaw a second time and tried to hold onto that mental image as Rose's phone emitted a soft ringing sound.

**00000**

FP was in the car, heading to the apartment where Brandon had told him 'help' would be waiting. He hoped that meant Agent Quinn and Trigger, and it had certainly sounded like that was what Brandon had been told.

His phone rang.

FP's heart was in his throat as he jammed the phone onto the hands-free mechanism and answered the call on speakerphone.

"Hello, FP." Dominic Rose sounded far too relaxed. FP's skin was already crawling. "I hear you're in town and haven't yet paid me a visit. Let's change that, shall we?"

FP tried to think. Brandon had made it clear that any deal he struck with Dom would jeopardize their position on the cusp of severing all ties with him and his network - potentially in the eyes of the law, and almost certainly as far as other criminals were concerned.

It was not clear whether stalling or hurrying this conversation would work better in achieving his goal of dodging any promises and buying Brandon time.

"Oh, I'm sorry - where are my manners?" Rose was apparently in a hurry, and he did not wait for a response. "There's someone here who's been waiting very patiently to say hello to you, even though he's got to be awfully uncomfortable."

"Dom-," FP didn't know what he was going to say, but he wasn't sure he could handle Jug getting on the line and pleading with him for help - begging him to give in to Rose's demands - and have even a prayer of getting off the phone without agreeing to literally anything.

"Dad?"

Too late.

Jughead sounded like his teeth were gritted.

"Jughead," FP had to focus on not driving into anything, but he suddenly knew how he wanted to play this. "Where _are _you? I didn't expect you to take off with Brandon, and not to hear from you for-,"

"Dad, I... got into some trouble. I'm really sorry I disappeared on you."

FP closed his eyes in relief. The first hurdle was behind him: Jughead was following his lead.

Horns blared, and FP's eyes shot back open as he swerved to avoid clipping an oncoming vehicle. "Uh, I'm driving. Where are you? I'll come and get you, but then we're having a long talk about-,"

"FP, I don't think you're understanding me," Rose's voice filled the line again. He sounded confused. Good.

"_Thank you_, Dom," FP channeled frustration into his voice. "I have no idea how you found Jughead, but I really appreciate your picking him up. Where are you two? This is the last time I take him to a country where the drinking age is eighteen. Fake IDs are just too easy to come by when the age is that low. You can give him a good scare if you want; he deserves it. I'll come by and pick him up. Sorry for the-,"

"Dad?" Jughead's voice was even more strained. "I can't-,"

"Very well. We're at my home. I'd appreciate it if you hurried, FP." Dominic sounded irritated, but not yet like he had any inkling that he was being played. "He's not the easiest of houseguests."

"You're telling me. I'll be right over, Dom. Thanks again." FP was almost shocked when the call disconnected.

He pulled the car over in front of a fire hydrant and swiftly leaned out of his car door to be sick in the street. FP spat a few times and then began driving again as quickly as he could.

There was no question in his mind but that he'd just heard Jughead being hurt - maybe even tortured. But Jughead had been able to hold it together, and FP had managed to get through the conversation without screwing anything up.

Brandon had better come through, though. Right now. Because FP still had to connect with the FBI before he could even consider going to Rose's Toronto address, and Jughead needed help.

**00000**

Brand surveyed the outside of Rose's house, thinking through his strategy for locating Jones and extracting him safely. He'd made record time by tipping the taxi driver heavily and being obnoxious, and then he'd exited the vehicle where he could not be seen from Rose's property.

But right now his best next steps were difficult to figure out. The house looked quiet enough, and there was no indication of where Brand should begin. He knew roughly where the room where Jones had been staying was located - where he had been held - but the odds that he had not been moved by now were almost nil.

The basement was usually a good bet, though it was a shot in the dark this time. Brand quickly decided that any action was better than nothing at this point; his worst case scenario was getting himself captured, after all, and that was literally plan B. Getting into the house was not a bad first step for that.

Skirting the security measures swiftly, Brand managed to get into the finished basement in just a few moments. It truly did seem empty, but he did a quick sweep of the rooms all the same.

It was taking too long, though.

Brand grimaced and backtracked to the security system. He'd need to tip his hand or else this was going to end with Jones either dead or maimed.

It went against decades of habit when Brand set off the security's silent alarm and then stepped back to wait.

He'd need to make this seem real, while still ensuring that he was taken down. Brand took a deep breath to calm himself. He was officially committed to this plan, and to the FBI figuring out that both he and the kid needed extraction.

It was all up to FP now.

**00000**

FP rapped loudly on the door that he'd been given directions to by Brandon the previous day, while they'd made plans - and then a second time when he'd texted the phone number that Brandon had given FP.

When Trigger must have caught his scent and barked twice, FP was relieved; he'd made it. He'd gotten to the right location without delay or incident.

Inexplicably, Clark was the one who opened the door.

"Where's Sarah?" FP pushed past the intern, sparing just one confused look for him. "They let you come to Toronto?"

"Yeah. Um, obviously. Agent Quinn is on her way; she'll be here in a minute or two. What's going on, Mr. Jones?" Clark was obviously disturbed by FP's demeanor and must have no idea what was going on. "Is everyone okay? Where are Jones and-,"

"I need Sarah _now_. Leash Trigger for me." FP began to pace and pulled out his phone again. Then something else caught his eye. "Max?"

"Hi." Max looked uncharacteristically shy. FP had gotten used to seeing his expressions alternate between studiously guarded, an animalistic fear, and a cagey sort of aggression. Something must have really calmed the boy down, because he was almost unrecognizable now, without his scowl.

And he was wearing an unmarked Serpents jacket.

"What are you wearing?" FP didn't stop pacing, but that was mildly distracting as long as he had to wait.

"I'm… I joined your gang. Just honorarily. But I got a skin when I did." Max's expression became tentative and hopeful as he awaited FP's response to that news.

"Hey, let's go into the bedroom. Mr. Jones needs to-," Clark seemed to sense that Max wanted something, and that FP was not capable of delivering it right now. That was probably accurate.

"Who in the Toronto Serpents would you let Max near?" FP looked concerned as he turned to face Clark.

"Banjo helped us," Max explained, clearly resistant to being left out of the conversation. "He said that he's friends with you."

"Banjo's in town from Montreal?" FP frowned as he thought that through. "Things must be even more unstable than we thought. That's good, though. He's someone I can work with. That might even be-,"

Agent Williams burst into the apartment, with Agent Quinn right on her heels.

"It's Jughead," FP blurted immediately, all thoughts of the Serpents gone in an instant. "We need to go in right now. Brandon went straight there, but who knows how that's going. Come on; he said to bring Trigger."

"Hold up." Agent Williams held up a hand and spoke calmly. "We have a procedure in place for this. We'll either hear from Davies or we'll get to the prearranged juncture where we go in automatically."

FP ignored her. "Sarah, let's go."

"Williams is right, FP - but we're going to get everyone into position right now." Quinn's tone was reassuringly urgent and it seemed to FP that her response was more appropriate than Williams' calmer one. "There is no reason to delay setting up. By the time we have the green light, everyone will be ready and waiting. Clark, you and Max will get to sit in the car. Do you think you can handle that?"

Clark hesitated, as if he was trying to figure out what that might entail in terms of 'handling.' "Uh, I think so?"

"It's not a code. Just don't become a hostage or a hero, Clark," Chloe supplied. "You or Max."

Aha. For some reason those two had to be physically near the bust. Maybe - probably - the apartment would no longer be safe for them once Rose's network realized what was going down, so they needed to be close to hand for their own protection.

"Yes. No problem." Clark shooed Max into the bedroom a second time, and this time Max obeyed.

"You too, Clark," Agent Quinn cocked her head toward the bedroom apologetically. "We still can't read you in on this."

"Is Jones-," Clark's expression radiated worry now that Max was not in the room.

"Brandon went after him," FP answered. "I don't know. I just got a phone call, though, and-,"

"Bedroom, Clark." Sarah cut FP off and motioned for the intern to leave the room. "Let us work."

Clark nodded and quickly joined Max.

Sarah turned to FP. "Okay. Williams is going to get people moving into position. You tell me about that phone call."

FP nodded and began to fill her in.

**00000**

Jughead was pretty sure that he was the one making a quiet, rhythmic moaning sound, and he was entirely certain that he was slowly losing the war against tears. He tried not to wonder whether he'd literally be screaming in pain eventually, since that was a horrifying thought; it had probably not been even thirty minutes since he'd been tied up so brutally.

"Sir, there was a blip on security in the basement." A man reported this in a bored tone. "Nothing sustained or of substance, so it was probably an animal; we can see to it."

Jughead hoped with all of his heart that it was not an animal.

"That is not an animal. Not with this sort of timing," Rose declared solemnly. "Get Jones into an empty storage room. We'll need to use the threat of hurting him - since killing him won't be credible - so why don't you make him more comfortable as well."

It was only once someone was cutting the ropes and easing Jughead's torso up and back to where he could theoretically use his cuffed hands for balance - and a new wave of pain rushed into his suddenly-freed limbs as he gasped and the tears finally overwhelmed him - that Jughead realized what Rose meant.

Jughead couldn't already be twisted into a torturously painful position, or else they had nothing left to threaten Brand with.

Thank heavens.

Jughead felt someone press his cuffed hands to the floor as if he'd be able to hold himself up by bracing against them, but his muscles felt completely exhausted and he collapsed onto his back without hesitation.

Rose had gotten what he wanted: Jughead couldn't even sit upright, let alone attempt to walk.

"If it is Brandon, shouldn't we just take Jones to the basement and-,"

"Absolutely not. Do not let Brandon see Jones and do not give him any indication of where his godson is located. Until Brandon is subdued, consider him only more dangerous if he has any opportunity to access the boy." Rose shook his head as he looked down at Jughead, who was trembling with pain and silently blinking up at him from the floor. "It's counterintuitive, but I would not risk Brandon turning the tables on you if he thought he had even a remote chance at retrieving Jones."

The men looked disgruntled, but Jughead knew better than to hope that they'd disobey Rose. Even more than Rose, Jughead was confident that once Brand had located him, everyone in his way would be doomed.

It was too bad that Rose likewise had an inkling that that was the case.

"Let's go, then." Two men grasped Jughead's shoulders and supported his weight without uncuffing his hands. They hefted him up and carried him down a hallway to what appeared to be a large walk-in closet that was completely empty.

It would definitely work as a holding cell. Jughead was too relieved about being untied to object when one of the men pulled out a handkerchief to gag him before they tied his ankles together once more and laid him, still quivering and with near complete loss of control of his screaming limbs, on the floor of the makeshift cell.

The door closed and locked. Jughead was left in darkness, and finally able to take stock of how much pain he was in, and how injured he was from the extreme stress position he'd been forced into.

When he'd determined that he was probably going to be very sore for a while - perhaps not unlike when he'd had whiplash -, but not likely permanently injured, it was another cause for relief. And, as Jughead thought more about the likelihood that Brand was on the premises, he began cautiously moving his arms and legs to encourage blood flow - and his limbs' obedience to his brain's commands.

If it had been Brand in the basement, he'd be here soon. Jughead had every confidence in his godfather, and he wanted to be ready for action.

**00000**

Brand hadn't had to work very hard to make it seem real: Rose had assumed it was him setting off the alarm, based on the timing, and never suspected that it was intentional since Brand had used a very light tough to set off the system.

The men who had been sent to deal with Brand had clearly been told to threaten Jones' safety, and it was simple work to make patently obvious his genuine rage and worry. Brand had offered his surrender almost immediately, and he hoped that the plan was to reunite him with Jones before anyone began taking their frustrations out on Brand.

But, either way, Brand hoped that his presence would take some heat off of the kid.

When he was hustled toward what looked like a closet door, that seemed to promise some more time for the FBI to get the memo that Brand was not successfully infiltrating - and that a signal would not be forthcoming.

One of the men lashed his ankles together, and then the closet was opened and Brand was shoved roughly inside so that he fell hard onto his left shoulder as he went down.

And there was Jones.

Based on Brand's brief glimpse of the situation before the closet door was shut behind him, the kid was scared but not visibly hurt. A gag was hanging uselessly around his neck, and more ominously his hands were cuffed behind him even though Jones should have had plenty of time to get those in front of him.

"You're hurt. Is it bad?" Jones sounded terrified. "What do I do? How do I help?"

"I'm not hurt. They barely touched me." Brand shook his head, but it was too dark for that to mean anything to Jones. He began working his wrists around his feet so that he could bring his hands up in front of himself. "I'm fine, kid. All in one piece. I'm handcuffed and my ankles are tied, but that's nothing we can't handle. Are _you _hurt?"

"Give it to me straight, Brand; I need to know what we're dealing with." Jones suddenly sounded frustrated as well as fearful. "I'm not an idiot. Rose _had _to hurt you to get you here."

"Well, in that case, I guess he did. He hurt me by hiding you away. I came for you, Jones." Brand finished maneuvering his cuffed wrists past his bound ankles. "I let his goons take me so that I could get to you quicker."

"That was dumb."

"It worked, didn't it? Your father's coming for us. We're covered. But I needed to get here fast, make sure that you were okay, and get between you and Rose in case anyone got any ideas about hurting you. We're just biding our time now, which is something we do well - when we're together."

"But Dad's not used to coming after us, Brand. He might take a while figuring everything out. Maybe... you should have sent him to find me while you organized the sting."

"It had to be me; Rose wants me out of circulation, and he doesn't want to be seen doing anything remotely like accosting your father. He does, however, want to cut a deal with your dad and we can't have that right now. Anyway, FP's got the FBI, he's got the perp and an address, and he knows we're here together. He'll be fine, and he'll be quick." Brand brought his cuffed arms up and over Jones' head, pulling him against his chest, and then frowning when he felt the kid tense against the movement. "You're fine now, too. I'm here, and that means your part is done. I can take over and get us home."

Jones' shoulders were stiff, but in Brand's embrace he seemed to relax slightly - and then he started to quiver.

Aw, man.

"Not that you're _totally _off the hook. I'm gonna need you to watch out for me, too." Brand figured that should do the trick. Give the kid a job to focus on so he didn't fall apart. "For one thing, I'm not particularly good at being a hostage. I am decidedly out of practice. Help me pick these cuffs, will you?"

The kid's hands came up awkwardly behind him, and he twisted until he could reach Brand's cuffs and find the locking mechanism. He'd need a tool, but that wasn't a bad start; Brand was glad to see that his lessons hadn't fallen on deaf ears.

"Are you scared?" Jones' voice was small. "They hurt me. They might hurt you too."

"Of course I'm scared. I'd be stupid not to be. I'd also be stupid to get too scared, because your father would be immensely offended that I had so little faith in him." Brand didn't like the way the kid's bones felt fragile in his grip. "And hey, I'm gonna need you to do something for me."

"Yeah?" Jones had begun exploring the locking mechanism with his fingers. "I can't open these without a tool, Brand. Can you reach my front left pocket? I've got a pin there."

"You do? Wow; that's some impressive contingency planning. Hang on and I'll try and get it for you. I need you to brainstorm something for me while we work on the cuffs, too. You ready for this?"

"Uh-huh."

"I need a laundry list of all the take-out you want to get before we leave Toronto, and all the take-out you want once we're back home."

"Brand."

"I am very serious. You're gaining that weight back, and you're going to make a start on it this week. Now choose wisely, and we'll make it happen. Otherwise I'm buying you weight gainers, and those are unfailingly nasty." Brand tweaked the back of the kid's neck before pulling his cuffed hands back over Jones' head and retrieving the pin from his pocket. "Take the pin. It's in my right hand. I'll get your cuffs next."

"Croissants."

"Duh. Which bakery?"

"Duh." Jones had a laugh in his voice. "Our usual. I'll take Dad and show him around the neighborhood."

"I'll come too. Someone's gotta make sure you tell the stories correctly." Brand was surprised by how quickly he felt a click and the cuffs fell open. "Nice technique. Now give me the pin back and turn around. Why are your arms still cuffed behind you, by the way?"

"Like I said. They hurt me." Jones' voice was only mildly hesitant, probably in an attempt to keep Brand from clueing in to the fact that he was hesitating - indicating that he didn't want Brand to know how hurt he'd actually been. "It seemed easier."

"I'm going to hurt _them_. Are you sore? I can try to help with cramps or aches."

"I'll live, Brand. Get the cuffs off and we can go from there."

A few moments later Jones was freed from the handcuffs and Brand could gather him up in his arms, protesting and elbowing as he came, and feel carefully around his spine and shoulders.

"Oh, kid." His whole body was beyond strained. "Just relax. I have no formal training whatsoever in therapeutic massage, but I probably can't do much damage here."

Jones was melting into his frame within minutes, almost snuggling into him while Brand worked to free up the tense muscles without going too deep with a massage that might later turn out to have been a mistake.

"You should sleep, kid. I need you rested so you can take the next shift." There wasn't going to be a next shift unless FP was lying dead somewhere, but it sounded like the kind of lie that might get Jones to close his eyes. He had to be powerfully exhausted. "I'm going to keep working on your back, and you just get whatever shut eye you can manage. We'll have you back in fighting shape in no time."

"Okay, Brand. Then I'll take a shift while you get some rest," Jones agreed. His head lolled against Brand's shoulder, tentatively at first and then with more trust when Brand shifted to make the position more comfortable. "You gonna sing me to sleep?"

"That's your dad's thing." Brand smirked. "I'll tell him you requested lullabies in captivity, though. I bet he'll come through for you once we're back home."

"You better not." Jones' smile tugged against Brand's shoulder.

"Sleep, Jones. No more talking." Brand smoothed a hand over the kid's head and then down to his back once more. "I'll tell you a story when you wake up."

"Just don't kill my horse." Jones' response was slightly delayed. Good; he was actually going to sleep.

"Shhhh." Brand lessened the pressure but continued the back rub. His own shoulders were starting to relax now that he had Jones with him, safe and sound.

"Brand?"

"What?"

"I don't think Agent Sarah needs to worry about whether you'll be a good dad."

"I don't think Agent Quinn is going to be impressed by my ability to get a highly-trained FBI intern to take a nap."

"She will be. Just wait and see."

"Nope. Because you're not telling her about any of this."

Jones' smile brushed against Brand's shoulder a second time, but it soon sounded like he'd actually dropped off to sleep.

**00000**

**And we're clearly teetering right on the edge of the bust... :-D I'll enjoy any and all reviews immensely as I dig into the next chapter. :)**

**I hope you're having a lovely weekend!**

**-Button**


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter twenty-five! This one continues to sprawl, but no complaints from me... I'm having fun, and I hope you are too!**

**Living Lucid Dream, thanks so much for the review! Clark remains delightfully nerdy(!), and I'm enjoying seeing how Max navigates being so separate from everyone else while being (out of necessity) at the center of the action. He and FP could definitely have an interesting dynamic brewing, and the Serpents are probably sticking around for a bit... And yeah, hardened criminal school, maybe? :) I'm not sure, but Rose has a creative streak that seems to have been passed on. Yay for a breather and some heart-melting moments as we move toward more action! :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"Are you packed? Veronica and Alice are already here," Archie heard his mother call from the hallway outside of his bedroom.

"We definitely should have rented a van," Archie said for what might have been the twentieth time. "This is going to be extremely crowded. Not to mention a long drive."

"Well, it's true that we weren't expecting quite so many people to be riding with us, but we'll make it work," Mary Andrews responded. She leaned into Archie's room. "It looks like you're all packed. Do you want to start loading up the car?"

They'd be taking Archie's mother's sedan to Toronto, and with five people in it - plus luggage for their stay - it promised to be uncomfortable. Particularly for the taller members of the road trip, Archie could not help thinking.

Archie also couldn't help but think that it was too bad that Mrs. Lodge had found out about Alice's transportation arrangement: riding double with Sweet Pea on his motorcycle.

Alice had insisted that she was buying proper gear and so it would all be entirely safe, but Archie had overheard part of the phone call from Hermione Lodge to his own mother, and the two mothers had laughed quite a bit at Alice's naive assumption that any parental figure would willingly sign off on that plan.

Even Archie knew to keep his mouth shut on that sort of thing, and he was not known for being the most stealth guy in the world.

Gunnar was driving up most of their gear in Archie's dad's pickup truck, and Sweet Pea had eventually agreed to ride up with him and bring his bike along in the bed of the truck. There had been a lot of head shaking and half-hidden smiles among the adults about the whole thing, but Archie thought they were all missing the main point here:

Alice had opted to ride with Sweet Pea. On a motorcycle, no less. And now Sweet Pea and Gunnar would be together - with no buffer - in a pickup truck for hours.

It didn't take a mind reader to see where this was heading. Archie's sole consolation was that only one of the people involved was actually in the band, so there would not be an internal rift in the group right before their first major exposure.

Aside from that, it all seemed like a recipe for way too much drama.

"Yeah, I can load up the car," Archie told his mother. "Did it look like the girls packed a lot?"

When his mother merely smiled and did not answer his question, Archie groaned.

"It's a big adventure, Arch," Mary chided him gently. "I'm sure they just want to be prepared."

Archie gave his mother a very fake, very pleasant smile, and she laughed.

When Archie's phone buzzed with an incoming call, his mother waved and left his room to give him privacy.

"Hey, Kevin. What's up?" Archie was surprised to hear from his friend, since Kevin knew that they were in the middle of getting on the road.

"Is there room for two more at Alice's house?" Kevin asked without preamble.

"Um, yeah. Sure. Are you and your dad-,"

"It's Joaquin. I really need to tell someone, but you cannot tell anyone about this," Kevin's voice had dropped in volume and Archie had to strain to hear him. "He's on some kind of a crusade to make amends, and apparently he's got access to way more information than anyone at the FBI is aware of - and he needs to go to Toronto right now."

"_Joaquin broke out of witness protection_?" Archie was horrified. "That's a terrible idea, Kevin. And so is traveling anywhere - especially out of the _country_ \- with him. Why can't he just 'make amends' by telling the FBI whatever he knows?"

"It's got something to do with FP Jones. I don't pretend to understand their relationship, but Joaquin insists that this is something he has to do. And, just for the record, I am fully aware that this is a terrible idea. That's why I'm going with him." Kevin's tone was firm, as if he had thought this through and believed that his logic was sound - but that it would not meet with approval from others. "So. Can we crash with you in Toronto?"

"My parents will be there," Archie reminded Kevin. "They'd be on the phone with the FBI in - literally - ten seconds."

"That's fine. Apparently whatever it is Joaquin wants to do will be done before we go to Alice's house. He said that he can be sent back - _should _be sent back - right after that."

Archie thought about that for a few seconds. Something wasn't adding up. "So, what… he needs a ride or something? Why would he call _you_?"

"Gee, thanks, Archie." Kevin sighed. "We're trying to communicate more. Joaquin knew I'd hit the roof if he did anything like this without telling me. And I'm insisting on going with him, so…"

"Oh. I guess that makes sense. Kind of. And yeah, there's plenty of room for you to crash at Alice's. Just do _not _tell my parents that I knew anything about this, okay?" Archie winced even as he said the words. "I'd get grounded from my own band's concert."

Kevin was quick to reassure him. "Of course. It's just going to be a few hours, anyway. We'll meet you there late tonight - or really early in the morning, most likely - and probably be on our way back to Riverdale tomorrow."

"Okay." It wasn't okay, but Archie figured it would be soon enough. "I guess I'll see you there."

"Thanks, Archie." Kevin hung up.

Archie hefted his own backpack onto his shoulder.

Somehow it felt a lot heavier than it had only a few minutes before.

**00000**

Brand was startled when the door to their dark cell was thrown open. Jones jerked awake, giving a pained groan.

"Up. Move." The man didn't seem at all surprised that they'd escaped their bonds. He held them at gunpoint, and Brand moved so that he was between Jones and the barrel of the handgun.

"We're coming." Jones sounded terrified and placating. "Please don't hurt us."

Brand shushed him, tucking him under one arm as they left the dark room and walked down a too-bright hallway. It was clearly past sundown from what he could see of the windows, which was heartening for the FBI's timeline, but they still needed to hold out for a little while longer.

Jones leaned into him heavily, and Brand rubbed the kid's shoulder as reassuringly as he could.

"He has no bullets," Jones' voice surprised Brand; he was nearly inaudible, even though he was easily within an inch of Brand's ear.

Brand tightened his grip around the kid; this was behavior that could get them into big trouble fast, and he didn't think Jones had any way of knowing whether…

As he processed the words, Brand turned toward Jones curiously, and was disconcerted by the look of smug confidence on the kid's face that in no way matched the fearful meekness he'd shown just moments before. Brand did not react, not wanting to call attention to them, but his mind raced with possibilities.

Maybe Jones had managed to pull something off. Maybe they were in a better position than Brand feared.

Maybe there were no bullets in the gun.

**00000**

"Are we clear?" Agent Williams had taken charge of Clark and Max, and for some reason Max seemed to be delighted by her barked orders and by her brusque explanations whenever Clark and Max were confused - which was definitely a more common phenomenon with Williams than with Agent Quinn.

"Yes, Agent Williams!" Max saluted, and though he did not sound sarcastic, both Williams and Clark turned to regard him suspiciously. "Will this count in my favor if I apply for an internship with the FBI someday?"

"Oh, for the love of-,"

"Of course it will," Clark interrupted, shooting Williams a quick warning look. They didn't need to do anything that might encourage Max to be any more unpredictable than he already was. "What do you think they care more about, your GPA or your hands-on experience helping the FBI with an international bust?"

Max crossed his arms. "So… no."

"I just said-,"

Agent Williams laughed. "He's not an idiot, Clark. You're both tourists on this one, and it's not going to count for much. Try not to make it count against you, though, huh?"

"Yes, Agent Williams." Max nodded resolutely.

Sarah emerged from her bedroom, where she'd been speaking privately with FP. "Are you three set? We should get moving."

"One last thing." Chloe Williams looked from Clark to Max and then back again. "Quinn and I are going to be busy - yet again, I know - so when it comes to you two the buck stops with FP. If he tells you to do something, you do it."

For a moment Agent Quinn looked like she might object, but then she merely turned to FP and shrugged. "That's a fair point. If something comes up and we can't give Clark guidance on the fly, you probably will have more information than anyone else. Is that all right with you?"

FP nodded to Agent Quinn. His expression was tight with worry, but he turned to give Clark a nod as well. "I'll let you know if I see things changing and nobody else can get an update to you."

"Thanks, FP." Clark's tone was reserved in the face of Mr. Jones' obvious distress, and he was increasingly nervous about what the others were not sharing with him about Jones and Davies. "We shouldn't need it."

"Huh. We have said that about an awful lot of things lately," FP declared darkly. "Just keep your eyes open, Clark."

Clark nodded, trying to ignore the fact that Max seemed only to be getting more energized by the rising tensions.

"We'll do our best not to let you down, FP," Max blurted out. He was still wearing the Serpents jacket, and Clark was beginning to wonder if Max was after FP's approval of Banjo's offer regarding honorary gang affiliation.

"I know, Max." FP's expression softened slightly. "And I appreciate that."

Max's relieved smile was entirely out of place in the tense atmosphere of the room, but he was as efficient as anyone when he snapped into action, leashing Trigger and gathering the supplies that he'd been put in charge of carrying.

When the four exited the apartment swiftly, Clark noticed that Mr. Jones dropped a hand onto Max's shoulder. The teen looked up at FP hopefully, and then gave him a very serious, businesslike nod of solidarity.

FP returned the nod solemnly as they made their way down the stairs, and Max's steps seemed a little lighter even though he was carrying Clark's backpack, his two tote bags, and also skillfully managing Trigger.

When Max's eyes cut over to catch Clark watching, he winked proudly. Clark winked back, but this time he couldn't help but recall Agent Quinn's admonitions that he could not follow through on any promises that he might be tempted to make to Max.

Their friendship was starting to feel like an implicit promise.

Thankfully there was a lot to take his mind off of that potential problem for the time being. Focusing on the shadowy, unknown threat to Jones and Davies that had Mr. Jones and the FBI so spooked, Clark's fingers brushed against his service weapon as he carefully handled the heavy gear bag filled with Williams' and Quinn's supplies.

Hopefully his friends were okay and they would all soon be reunited.

**00000**

Brand was starting to have some serious sympathy for FP regarding how irritating it was to be left in the dark while everyone else in the room had a clue about what was going on. He and Jones had been herded into a fancy sitting room just off of the foyer in Rose's house, and they seemed to be waiting on Rose's convenience.

And so far at least three threats had been made that Brand could not make heads or tails of.

Jones definitely understood them, though, and Rose's goons seemed to take great pleasure in referring to his bedroom (which was nothing short of disturbing and made Brand really, really wish that he'd gotten the whole story from Jones about his having been hurt), threatening to tie the kid up (which should have been a relatively mild threat, but had the kid skittering nervously behind Brand and doing calming breathing exercises, which seemed a bit much for Jones' typical acting abilities), or Jones' dramatically fearful reaction when one of the men mockingly rested the barrel of his (supposedly empty) gun against the side of Brand's head.

Brand hadn't been thrilled by the gesture either, not least of all because he had quite the acting job he needed to pull off here, but Jones' reaction was strong enough that it made Brand question whether he had been right in assuming that the kid knew something - and that the guns might actually not be loaded.

It was _really _frustrating not knowing what was going on.

And Brand needed to appear scared, not frustrated. The moment he seemed a little too angry or defiant, Rose's people would do the obvious and stop messing with Brand (something they seemed to relish the opportunity to indulge in) in favor of threatening harm to Jones in order to keep Brand cowed.

So it was better to just keep breathing a little too quickly and doing the nervous scanning-the-room thing that Jones had raised to an art form.

And then Rose arrived.

"Ever the salesman, I see," Rose declared, his eyes sweeping dismissively over Brand and then resting on Jones. "I would like some answers, though, and I'm really not in the mood for games - particularly considering your not insignificant talent for acting, Brandon."

Brand frowned.

"You forget that when I met you, you were scared," Rose continued. He seemed impatient, and that made Brand wonder what had kept him from confronting them earlier in the day. It was possible that Rose knew that things were disintegrating around him in Toronto and so he had begun to make arrangements to cover himself, retaliate, or perhaps to disappear. Maybe even all three. "I know what that sounds like. I know what inspires that in you."

Brand forced himself not to glance in Jones' direction, but he had a sick feeling that his efforts to keep the kid out of the crosshairs were about to become meaningless. He might have lost any precise track of time, too, but he had the distinct sense that the FBI was now officially late in coming after them.

Hopefully FP was not lying dead somewhere.

"The fireplace will do, and we should have no need to disfigure more than the boy's feet. Remove his shoes, though; this will take a bit of gasoline and will certainly smell foul enough without adding athletic footwear to the-,"

"Jones?" Brand's voice was level and cold and he knew that would get the kid's attention. He no longer cared whether the guns were empty, the bust successful, or if they got out of this house without injury.

It was time to fight their way out or die trying.

"Ahhh, there we are." Rose's tone was suddenly filled with mirth and he was praising Brand as if he were an obedient pet. "_That's_ the sound of honesty. Just to be sure that we keep it around, let's restrain the boy once again. There will be no surprises tonight."

Brand reached behind him and grabbed Jones by his upper arm. The kid was barely shaking, and Brand wondered if he'd even had time to fully realize what Rose was threatening. "Jones, we're not-,"

Before Brand could communicate to the kid that they were not going to cooperate - that they were going to fight for their lives before they allowed Rose to subdue either one of them, now that his threats had gotten nasty - a door flew open.

"There are dozens of Serpents outside. They're claiming to be here on behalf of the Serpent King, but without his knowledge. There are…" The man bearing the message quailed when confronted by Rose's facial expression. "I'm sorry, sir. There are a lot of them. They want you to give them the Jones kid in exchange for them leaving your territory peaceably."

"Give him up, Rose. You'll still have me," Brand spoke up immediately, his grip tightening painfully on Jones' arm when he heard an objection forming behind him. "You really don't want to mess with that treaty; this is a gift. You can still get him out of here, no harm no foul."

"It seems a bit more like a gift horse. Perhaps even a Trojan one." Rose raised an eyebrow imperiously before addressing the men who had been guarding Brand and Jones. "Don't hurt either of them unless you have to. I'll go see to this."

Brand had to work to loosen his grip on the kid. He turned to take in Jones' horrified expression, and the way he was shaking his head at Brand.

"I won't leave you."

"You'll go," Brand said wearily. The odds were not good that Jones would be released to the Serpents, but they were better than zero and Brand was going to push for that outcome as hard as he could. "If we get the option, you're gone. Now sit down-," Brand motioned to one of the couches in the room, "-and let's make sure that everyone here gets a chance to relax their trigger fingers."

There was every possibility that the situation devolving would result in them both being shot and their bodies left behind if a scramble began to get clear of the sinking enterprise. However, if people were calm enough that it looked in any way easier - smarter - to make a run for it without putting bullets into the two hostages, that alone might mean their survival.

Jones nodded slowly, looking around at Rose's men - who appeared to be at least slightly confused, and deeply concerned by the events unfolding outside of the room.

"We all need to wait and see how this shakes out," Brand continued, this time addressing everyone in the room. Out of habit, or perhaps sensing that change might be in the wind once again, the men seemed willing to listen to him.

"I'm not leaving you behi-,"

This time one of the armed men responded to the kid: "You'll do what Rose wants. Sit down."

And so they did.

**00000**

"What are we doing _here_?"

Once they'd arrived in Toronto, Kevin had been meticulously cut out of any and all conversations of substance, but when he and Joaquin had been loaned a motorcycle in order to participate in a massive nighttime group ride into an upscale residential neighborhood, he'd begun amassing questions swiftly.

Now that they had surrounded a mansion and a few Serpents had broken away to deliver a message to the front door of the house, Kevin was starting to get a vague idea of what sort of outing this might be.

And he was beginning to panic.

"We're enforcing a treaty that someone was under the mistaken impression was about to expire," Joaquin said in a darkly gleeful way. "I organized this so that FP wouldn't have to go near it. He'll appreciate that; this is a big deal agreement we're enforcing, and FP's been trying to keep his hands clean lately."

Joaquin had been refreshingly energized ever since they'd begun their trip to Toronto, and Kevin had been relieved and grateful to see his boyfriend so happy and in many ways acting like he was back to his former self.

Now it all seemed disturbing.

"Too bad this isn't a place that'd burn easy." A Serpent who was astride a bike beside them offered to Joaquin with a grin. "I think he's more than earned it. Rose tried to take out two lines of succession today: the Serpent King's kid and his own heir, Davies."

Joaquin tsked playfully, lighting up with a sarcastic smirk. "He must actually believe that he's going to live forever."

"Could be; could be. Rose has the ego for it. Anyway, our opening bid is just for the kid. We'll fish Davies out if we get a chance, but it's Rose's business if he wants to deal with his traitor his own way."

"No. Get Davies out too." Joaquin shook his head. "God only knows why, but he's family to FP. If we want to make things right and have a prayer of bringing the king back to the Serpents once and for all, we'll need to get both of his people out."

The other Serpent frowned. "That's a bit more challenging. But you know better than any of us what's likely to make a sober FP Jones sit up and take notice." The Serpent's emphasis made it clear that he was still have a difficult time wrapping his head around the notion of FP's sobriety.

Joaquin flicked his eyebrows in response, and the gesture was somehow one of both acquiescence and a challenge. "I won't steer you wrong."

Kevin gaped at his boyfriend. "Wait a second... do you mean that _Jughead _is here? And Special Agent Davies? You're threatening them unless they come out here and, what, turn themselves over to the Serpents?"

"We're not threatening anyone, Kevin. We're, uh, 'negotiating their release,'" Joaquin corrected, his tone slightly mocking. "Isn't that what your dad would call it?"

"Release?" Kevin's eyes flew back to the mansion. "Hold on. What exactly is going on here?"

"Well, now. That's what we're trying to figure out, kid." The other Serpent folded his arms over his broad chest. "For all our sakes."

**00000**

"It's taking too long. It's been too long. We have to go-,"

Agent Quinn interrupted FP. "I know this is painful, but this is the international part of our job. It's complicated, and we cannot move until we get the go-ahead from our Canadian liaisons."

"Why wasn't this set up beforehand?" FP demanded.

"Nobody wanted to sign off on giving us that much latitude. And now I'm thinking that they must have assumed - or hoped - that it would never get this far." Agent Quinn's terse manner betrayed her frustration with the situation as well.

"We'll do something if things start to look unstable, FP," Williams tried to assure him.

"Not good enough, Williams," FP growled. "Just let me out of the car. I'll talk to Rose, stall him, do _something-_,"

"No can do." Williams' tone held something firmer and more dangerous then: her words were a threat. "You are officially with us now. You need to sit tight and let us go through channels. It's the only way to get this done."

Clark and Max watched with wide eyes as this exchange played out.

Williams looked down at her phone, and then began gaping in horror at whatever she had received. "Uh, Clark? Have you made any phone calls in the last few hours?"

"No. None." Clark sat up straighter. "Why?"

"It must have been FP, then. You really want this bust to fall apart, don't you, Jones?" Agent Williams' glare was chilling. "Call them off. Now."

"Who?" FP was startled out of his anxious rage and into bewilderment. "What are you talking about? I didn't call anyone."

"Wait. Is it our gang?" Max put it together a moment before FP and Clark did. "The Serpents came to help!"

"_Max_? How on earth did _you _contact-," Williams sputtered before Quinn cut her off.

"He couldn't have. Nobody in this vehicle could have, Chloe." Sarah frowned. "And the Serpents do have an active interest in who has control of territory around here. I can't think of how they caught wind of things happening tonight, though, and this cannot be a coincidence."

"They'll beat them. Just like they beat Donn." Max was leaning forward eagerly. "If we can't go yet but they can, then they can make sure that-,"

"That is not how this works," Williams snapped.

"But it could be," FP interjected. "I didn't call anyone, but maybe Max is right. If we're forced to sit on our hands, then they might be able to keep Rose treed for a little while longer. Keep him too busy to… _focus _on anything else."

"Or they might escalate things, FP." Sarah gave him a sympathetic look, but spoke firmly. "This could far too easily go the other way and not work in our favor."

"But it might." FP's expression was pained. "It's a chance."

They all lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

Finally Clark spoke up. "I think that maybe Mr. Jones is right. We've been delayed. So maybe Davies set this up with the Serpents ahead of time, just in case that happened. He had to know this was possible; he's been an international liaison with the FBI for a while. He's even led an international bust right here in Toronto once before."

Everyone in the vehicle exchanged glances.

"That is... surprisingly plausible," Agent Quinn admitted quietly.

"It certainly sounds like something Davies would do," Williams agreed, her grudging tone tinged with reluctant admiration for the idea.

FP frowned. He was not convinced that sounded at all like Brandon's relationship with the Serpents. However, he was willing to hold onto any hope that was offered.

"Keep making calls, you two." Hope or no hope, FP wasn't about to let up on the two agents. "If Brandon did this, it's nothing more than a stalling tactic. Make it count."

"We're doing everything we can," Agent Quinn promised. "You know we all care deeply about Jughead and Brand and their safety."

"They're our people. We've got movement, and we should be cleared to go in any time now." Agent Williams patted FP's shoulder bracingly. "We'll get them out. This is not as bad as it seems; it just sucks seeing how the sausage is made."

When FP looked to Clark, as if he might have a different impression from his unique position as knowledgeable intern but less-invested non-FBI personnel, the younger man made a face.

"Look, I'm the only one here who's both an adult and already on thin ice with the Bureau in every possible way." Clark gave FP a sincere look. "And once Quinn and Williams are moving, the buck officially stops with you, Mr. Jones."

"Um, what exactly are you getting at?" Agent Williams twisted around in her seat to look at Clark; she was suddenly very concerned.

"I'm just saying that I'm here. That's all," Clark reassured her. Then he made eye contact with FP and gave him a subtle nod. "For whatever you need me to do."

Agent Sarah gave Clark a sharp look in the rearview mirror of the vehicle, but when both agents' phones began frantically buzzing, the conversation was effectively over.

FP returned Clark's nod and mouthed 'thank you.' Clark gave him a tight smile.

Max grinned up at them both. "Don't forget that we have Trigger, too."

FP patted him on the shoulder, but his attention was on the two agents in the front as they hurriedly exited the vehicle.

"Stay here." Agent Quinn was all business once more. "We're waiting on one more piece, but then things are going to start happening quickly."

"Thank heavens." FP waved for her to keep moving. "We're set. Go."

"Cell phones on and handy at all times," Williams admonished, and then she was gone as well.

"Clark," FP turned to the intern as soon as they were alone. "We need a code word. If I text it, you come in with your service weapon. Max, you'll have the hardest job. I need you to stay here - right here -, no matter what happens. Keep the doors locked against anyone but us, Agent Quinn, or Agent Williams." FP thought for a moment and then added: "Or Jughead and Davies."

"Aye, sir." Max saluted.

"He's reading Treasure Island," Clark said when FP looked unsure of how to take that response. "You're clear on what Mr. Jones is saying, Max? He's at the top of the chain of command now."

"Wow, Clark. Yes, I do know how to do nothing." Max rolled his eyes. Then he looked more eager: "Can I come up with the code?"

"No," FP and Clark chorused.

"It's better if you don't even know what it is," Clark continued.

"For your protection," FP added.

"And for the integrity of the mission. I get it." Max nodded seriously. "You can count on me. I'll be the one holding the fort."

"Exactly." FP nodded. "Everyone has a part to play. Just in case we need it."

They began to strategize.

**00000**

**I know, this is the 'everything' story and maybe I'm having (far) too much fun... Sorry I'm not sorry? ;) I hope you're enjoying; thanks for reading! I'll love any and all notes as I no doubt have quite the bust on my hands in our next chapter. :-D **

**I hope you are having a lovely weekend!**

**-Button**


	26. Chapter 26

**Woo-hoo! And the story goes on... :-D**

**Skyrider45, I love your description of Kevin getting a firehose to the face. Pretty much! :-D We'll see what fallout comes of that... Poor FP, yeah. He's getting to orchestrate things and manage people, but he's far more comfortable being front and center when things are going down. Wires should finally begin getting uncrossed, but it might take some work! :) You are quite welcome for the chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one also!**

**Living Lucid Dream, I thought that was a great read of Sweet Pea and Gunnar. They do have a lot of similarities and just a couple of (glaring) points of friction. I have a hard time picturing the two of them and Jughead being three good buddies, but I think they've all got some things in common that will eventually help them settle into better friendships. And yes, the emptying-guns thing is iffy at best, but it is something, and I'm with you - hopefully it makes a difference. Yay Joaquin! Kevin might not be thrilled with him right about now, but it was great getting Joaquin back into the thick of things! I'm actually starting to think I should have said "several kitchen sinks," but we'll see what you think as the rest of the story plays out... :-D I'll love hearing your thoughts!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Betty had been surprised to hear that everyone else was riding up to Toronto in Mr. and Mrs. Andrews' vehicles, but she could see right away that not having to drive the whole way was appealing. She texted Alice back to ask if there was room in the pickup for one more.

'Sure. I'll let them know you're coming. You can leave your car here,' Alice replied.

Hours later, Betty was sitting between Gunnar, who was driving, and Sweet Pea, whose phone was blowing up with text messages that were clearly irritating him immensely.

"Group text?" Betty ventured. Conversation had more than lagged; it had been stilted when it was not nonexistent, and she almost regretted not having driven herself. Music or a podcast would have been infinitely better than this.

"Yeah." Sweet Pea glowered down at his phone. "I don't know why the Southside Serpents even care; it's well outside of our territory and everything that has to do with us is ancient history - it was over long before my time. I'm staying out of it, but they're insisting on looping me in on the drama."

Gunnar made a quiet sound of disapproval and Sweet Pea glared over Betty's head at him..

"Is it anything to do with Jughead?" Betty asked curiously.

This time a derisive snort came from both teenage boys. They shot startled glances at one another when they realized that they'd had the same reaction to Betty's question.

"I know there's no love lost when it comes to Jughead." Betty rolled her eyes. "But seriously, does it involve either him or his dad?"

"FP was running things back then," Sweet Pea replied reluctantly. "So there's that."

"And as we know, all roads eventually lead to Jughead," Gunnar added brightly, with just a lilt of sarcasm in his tone.

"No kidding." Sweet Pea's exasperation was evident. "He's not the total disaster I always thought - I mean, FP kind of had no time for him for a while, and that definitely says something -," Betty winced at hearing that stated so baldly, "-but between him and Davies…"

"It's like a lightning rod?" Gunnar supplied.

Sweet Pea snorted again, but this time in amusement. "Pretty much."

"Well. That is because of the Serpents," Betty said, stung by the unexpected unity in the truck against her boyfriend. "Not to mention because of unhealthy dynamics in the Southside at large. It wasn't exactly Jughead's decision to become ground zero for so much."

"And he's done _such _a good job at getting out of the middle of things." This time Gunnar's sarcasm was unrestrained. "He doesn't butt in or get involved _at all_."

Sweet Pea grinned appreciatively.

"That is because of Brand. And partly Mr. Jones." Betty set her jaw. "Jughead lives with them, so-,"

"Oh, FP has done surprisingly little damage lately," Gunnar said. This time Sweet Pea raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Davies is clearly restraining him. Probably literally. Nope; Jughead's the one who keeps turning up just in time to escalate situations-,"

"Or _create_ situations," Sweet Pea interjected.

Gunnar nodded in agreement. "Exactly. He does seem to create some of them. I mean, the Serpents totally overran the Southside after Southside High was bombed, all because Jughead ran off with some FBI guy without telling anyone, and then went missing. That didn't need to happen, and that's still biting people in the Southside."

"That has had some major fallout, yeah," Sweet Pea agreed. "The splinter faction screwed us over royally on the paperwork, so the Serpents are still sorting out those leases for the buildings where Jones and his insane buddies set off a bomb. "

"Hey. Archie's cool." Gunnar's tone had an edge. "He did what he had to do, and he actually deescelated a lot that day. Don't talk about what you don't understand."

"Whatever. It was insane. But yeah, I do barely know Andrews," Sweet Pea conceded. "What Alice sees in Jones, though, I will _never_ understand."

"No kidding." Gunnar was silent for a moment. "By the way, you do realize that we're going to Toronto with Fred Andrews, a man who has no use for either of us, right?"

Sweet Pea grunted, sounding unconvinced.

"I'm serious. He's been vocal about keeping Archie away from the Southside for years," Gunnar insisted. "Archie even told me about Fred and FP growing up together and having a falling out; they're friends again now, but it's all complicated. They're friends again in part because Fred decided to blame the Southside instead of FP."

"He's always been fine to me." Sweet Pea's voice held a challenge. "Maybe it's just you he doesn't like."

"I'm thinking it's more likely that he has a problem with you, man. It's the Serpents he usually calls out, and he'll do that in front of me when I'm around for band stuff." Gunnar was focused on the driving now. "I just thought I'd give you a heads up. He's too classy to let on, but you might want to avoid the subject or whatever."

"He grew up with FP?" Sweet Pea was thoughtful. "Okay. I won't bring up the Serpents. Thanks."

Betty narrowed her eyes and looked back and forth between Sweet Pea and Gunnar. This version of a truce was far from the dynamic she'd expected, and she was not entirely certain that she approved.

**00000**

Rose reentered the room with two more men, and Jughead felt his heart speed up and his chest become tight once more. He glanced at Brand, though, and his breathing eased when he saw his godfather's confident expression. Jughead noticed that he'd unconsciously leaned forward to mimic Brand's relaxed-but-ready posture on the couch.

The Serpents were here. That meant his dad was here, or maybe hidden somewhere at a discreet distance while he called the shots. Brand was right next to Jughead, radiating an aura of complete control of the situation - even from his position as hostage. Everything was going to be okay.

All Jughead needed to do was stick close to Brand.

That would keep his godfather from doing anything stupid like getting himself killed to protect Jughead, and it would also ensure that Jughead didn't do anything stupid and get himself killed. They were a good team; Brand had always said so, and it had played out that way time and again over the past year.

"We're leaving. Bring these two; Toronto has officially become more trouble than it's worth, and it is not like I don't have enough to occupy my time in Montreal," Rose declared in a more surly voice than Jughead had ever heard from him before.

The four men who had been watching over Brand and Jughead were joined by the two newcomers, and they looked at one another as if they were not sure how to divide the work of 'bringing' Brand and Jughead along.

Brand's shoulders twitched. "We're not useful to you in Montreal."

"You have so little imagination, Brandon," Rose's voice was smooth once more and suddenly he was almost crooning. "There are more ways to be useful than merely acting as leverage."

Brand's shoulders did not twitch this time: instead, they looked as though they'd turned to stone.

Jughead tried not to react, but he was pretty sure that this was the worst threat so far if Brand's reaction was any indication. He still felt relatively calm, though: Brand knew Rose. The FBI was coming. They'd get out of this in no time at all.

Then Brand said something that didn't make any sense:

"You'd better have been right about the guns, kid. Don't touch Rose."

Without any further comment, Brand shoved Jughead forcefully down off of the couch and slammed him face first onto the carpeting.

Jughead's body reacted to Brand's action and words before his brain caught up:

They were making a stand.

Sort of.

Jughead realized a moment later why he was facedown on the floor when the room erupted with deafening gunfire.

Brand was cursing loudly, and Jughead was deeply impressed when he realized that his godfather believed that there were actual bullets spraying through the room - yet he did not hesitate to engage the armed men. Two of them joined Jughead on the floor before he had a chance to regain his feet.

Jughead sprang up and moved into position beside Brand, wincing at the volume of the continued gunfire but feeling his body settle automatically into his fighting stance.

This was what they'd been training for. Jughead was ready to defend - to prove - himself.

"What is _wrong _with you, Jones? _No bullets_?" Brand roared as he grappled with one man, and lithely maneuvered so that he could crush a second man's face with a vicious elbow.

Jughead did not answer right away. Instead, he took the time to sweep the legs out from under one assailant and to duck an ill-considered grab from another one. The men clearly saw him as far less of a threat than Brand, and he was able to get several cheap, damaging shots in before they stepped up their game.

"Brandon trained the boy," Rose shouted from across the room, where he was watching this play out. "Don't underestimate him."

"They're _blanks_, Brand." Jughead blocked a blow and grabbed the attacker's hand - and was gratified when he suddenly had a finger in his grip and could snap it quickly and easily while pivoting to strike at the man who had just driven a pistol into Brand's ribs as if it was a blunt weapon.

Brand growled as he ripped into the armed man - who was distracted by the unexpected attack from Jughead. The tearing sound that came from the man's shoulder was sickening and the man went down screaming as Brand did everything that he'd always told Jughead never to do in a fair fight.

For just a second, Jughead had time to lock eyes with Brand. He realized with a shock that they were both grinning.

"_Blanks_? And here I thought they were the worst shots in history. Oh my God, kid, you're a genius. Although those can still kill you at point blank range, so this was not what we'd call a watertight plan." As he spoke, Brand turned to move toward Rose. The older man had dialed someone on his cellphone and was backing out of the room as the fight unexpectedly began to look like it was favoring his two captives. "Yeah, you're not getting out of this so easily."

A gun came up.

"_No_! I didn't get to empty Rose's gun!" Jughead shouted. His eyes met Dominic Rose's.

And then Jughead realized that Rose was not aiming for Brand.

"Hit the deck, kid!" Brand launched himself at Rose in a last-ditch attempt to get the gun.

Jughead dove toward the floor a second time as yet another shot rang through the room.

**00000**

FP had figured that he'd better find out what was going on with the Serpents as long as Sarah and Chloe were gone. After all, it was now well past Midnight so their presence at this hour was bizarre on a number of levels - and sitting in the vehicle with Clark and Max was not likely to be useful in any way.

He hadn't expected to hear Rose's house blaze to life like an Old West gunfight when he strode in the direction of the ring of motorcycles.

FP did not hesitate: he fired off the text telling Clark to go in shooting, and he took off at a run.

When FP raced straight past the Serpents and a gathering crowd of police who were no doubt responding to the motorcycle gang's disturbance of the neighborhood, he heard a ripple of shock and then movement behind him. Good. Hopefully the Serpents were armed as well, because this mansion was big enough that having more people would make it immensely more likely that they'd locate Jughead before he'd bled out on the floor.

Which was a thought that FP really, really needed to avoid focusing on.

**00000**

"Oh!" Clark dropped his phone on the floor of the vehicle when he saw the text come in from FP. "Oh, um, hey, Max, are you good? I have to-,"

"You were supposed to _run_," Max supplied, opening the car door and pointing. "Take Trigger. He'll protect you."

Clark was about to object, but then something occurred to him as he leapt from the vehicle into the chill of the late night. "Trigger. Find Jughead. Jughead's here, boy. _Find Jughead_."

Trigger reacted like he'd been shocked, and was leaping against the leash as Clark began to run with him toward Rose's mansion and the sound of gunfire.

This might just work.

**00000**

Fred Andrews answered his phone with a puzzled frown. "Tom? It is really late, and you might recall that I drove all the way to Toronto today. What is it?"

"Do you know where Kevin is? Have you heard anything from him?" Tom Keller's voice was raw with fear.

"No." Fred was suddenly wide awake, though he had a feeling that he did not want to know how late - early - it was. "Is he missing? Wait, did he tell you that he'd be with us?"

"He said that he'd be with Betty Cooper. I think he didn't realize that she was going out of town with you all." Tom Keller's voice was rough when he continued: "I just got a call from the FBI with an update about Joaquin DeSantos; he disappeared earlier today. When I tried to locate Kevin, just in case Joaquin planned to contact him, I found out that I'd been lied to. They're both missing, Fred. I can only assume..."

"You think Kevin went off with someone who's a known target for-,"

"Exactly." Sheriff Keller sounded increasingly distraught. "I know it's late, but if there is any chance at all that one of the kids knows something- anything-,"

"I'll wake them up right now." Fred swung his legs out of bed and sat up. "You want to stay on the line?"

"I have more calls I need to make." Keller sounded slightly more composed, but still deeply shaken. "Thank you, Fred."

"You don't need to thank me. I'll call you back as soon as I've talked to them," Fred promised.

Once the call had ended, Fred took a few seconds to scrub his eyes and to hope with all his heart that Kevin was safe and that Joaquin was not leading him into danger.

Then Fred stood up resolutely. He'd wake Archie first.

**00000**

"Why on _earth _would you not _lead _with the fact that you hadn't emptied one of the guns?" Brand was shouting at Jughead even as he tried to stop Rose's arm from bleeding profusely. He turned on Rose when the man groaned in his grip. "Oh, no you don't. You cannot go to the hospital before you get beaten to a pulp by an entire prison's worth of convicts, you lousy-,"

Brand cut himself off from shouting into Rose's pained, pale face and turned back to focus on Jughead.

Jughead was blinking up at Clark and fending off Trigger as his dog danced over him where he was lying on the floor. Jughead had not been shot; Rose had clutched his right arm, dropped his gun, and fallen to the floor; Clark was standing in the doorway, holding a handgun.

And still it was hard to believe the obvious.

"Did you just... shoot Rose?" Jughead managed.

Clark seemed too shocked to formulate an audible reply. He met Jughead's gaze with wide eyes and simply nodded.

"Now, Jones, I'm not mad," Brand continued yelling with what sounded to Jughead a lot like fury, "but I lost a _lot _of years off my life just now, and let me just say that I might have approached this fight a little bit differently had I known that exactly _one gun_ in this room contained live ammo."

"Clark?" Jughead ignored Brand's ranting, and instead he slowly grinned up past Trigger's wildly enthusiastic greeting to address his friend. "That was badass. You were _amazing_. And I really, really need a favor."

Clark smiled back shakily, his handgun cradled awkwardly in both hands as though he was not sure what to do with it now that he'd shot someone. "Uh, sure, MacGyver. No problem. Your dad's here somewhere too, but Trigger found you right away, and - uh, I mean… A favor? What kind of favor? What could you possibly-,"

"I need you to get a backpack full of stuff, my camera, and a puppy for me from the third room on the left, just up the stairs." Jughead pointed. "Can you take Trigger and get him out of the house, too? I don't want anything bad to happen." Jughead made a pleading face as he slid up into a seated position and patted Trigger energetically. "If the cops come before the rest of the FBI get here, they're definitely not going to let me walk out of here with a puppy. And I don't want anyone to confiscate my camera, so-,"

"Say no more. And, uh, actually, there are cops surrounding this place right now. I think they came because the Serpents are all over the neighborhood right now, but they'll be coming in here any second after all that shooting." Clark looked paler as he thought about his own words, but then he squared his shoulders and lowered his chin. "Um, I guess I'll just bring your stuff back to our apartment as 'evidence.' Up there?"

Clark motioned toward the staircase down the hall and Jughead nodded in confirmation. "Wait, you seriously have a puppy? How did _that _happen?"

"Rose gave her to me. You're going to love her. Just keep her safe, make sure Trig doesn't eat her, and help me think of good names." Jughead continued patting Trigger as he climbed to his feet. He was deeply relieved to have a plan in place. "Thank you, Clark."

"Are you kidding? Best part of the job." Clark took a deep breath, studiously avoiding looking at Rose. "I'll go get it squared away before anyone starts asking questions."

Brand seemed to be shaking off his shock; having stopped yelling, he was watching Clark with a tentative expression. They had not left things in a good place in Riverdale.

Clark nodded to acknowledge Brand. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner, Special Agent Davies."

"Don't be sorry; what Jones said goes for me too, Clark," Brand said emphatically. "Do I need to take that gun before law enforcement arrives? I'm getting used to filling out the paperwork, and you don't need the headache of being the intern who shot a perp."

"No, sir. Thank you, sir," Clark shook his head, "but I'm going to need to account for my actions or I'll never make it in law enforcement."

Brand nodded, giving Clark a small, impressed smile. "That might be true, but the offer stands. You deserve it, and I'd face fewer questions than you."

"Thank you, sir, but I've got it," Clark said gratefully. "I'm just thrilled that I was able to play even a small part in one of your busts."

"That was anything but small, Clark," Brand replied seriously. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir." Clark ducked his head bashfully, gave Jughead a conspiratorial look as he darted forward to grab Trigger's leash, and then hurried off to find Jughead's belongings.

It sounded like the mansion was flooding with people, and voices were fast approaching their location.

Realizing that this was it, the end of their part in the plan, Jughead suddenly felt more jittery than he had through the entire altercation. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he shot Brand a tentative look. "Did we do it, Brand? Did we pull off the bust?"

"Oh yeah, killer. We did it." Brand grinned up at him. "That was a home run."

**00000**

Fred Andrews felt his forehead knit as he listened to Archie's horrified, penitent confession.

The other boys had crashed all around the large room on piles of bedding as though they were having a slumber party; they were stirring in response to the hushed conversation the Andrews men were having, but both Archie and Fred were startled when another voice piped up.

"You think they might be traveling near here, on Serpent business?" Sweet Pea sat up as he asked the question. "I might know where they went."

"Really?" Archie's tone was filled with relief. "You think so?"

"Hang on." Fred hit some buttons on his phone. "I'm going to need you to talk to Sheriff Keller if there is any possibility that you know where they are."

Sweet Pea nodded. "Sure. Anything I can do to help. Joaquin's a good guy, and I like Kevin."

"We all do," Fred agreed, managing a smile as he waited for Tom to pick up. "Thank you, Sweet Pea."

"No worries; the Serpents have your back. After all, you're a friend of FP's." Sweet Pea shrugged, but he made piercing eye contact as he spoke. "You grew up together, right? That means something."

"Uh… I guess it might." Fred seemed taken aback. "I never really thought of it that way when it comes to the Serpents."

"We're big on loyalty," Sweet Pea stated, as if that was the end of the conversation.

Fred listened to the ringing continue. Just when he thought the call would go to voicemail, Tom picked up. "Tom, we think they're together. We might have a lead, and maybe even an address."

Sweet Pea nodded in confirmation.

"Thank heavens. Where are they?"

Fred handed the phone to Sweet Pea.

"Sheriff Keller?" Sweet Pea gave Fred a reassuring nod. "It's possible they went to Toronto on Serpent business. I don't know all the details of what's going down, but everyone's been buzzing about a motorcycle ride. Ready to take down the address?"

Fred and Archie exchanged glances. A motorcycle ride didn't entirely make sense.

"Maybe it's code," Archie whispered, frowning.

"Maybe." Fred eyed his son with concern. A long, serious lecture was going to happen... but probably not until Kevin was located, safe and sound.

Which would hopefully be soon.

**00000**

"Jug, you're okay. Thank heavens. You did so well; you knocked it out of the park." FP had Jones in his arms and lifted him ever so slightly off of his feet in an embrace. "We are never doing this again. Forget about going away to college. Think ankle monitor. And we're getting new locks on the windows at home."

Rose and his men had been taken away already to receive medical treatment, in spite of Brand's protests that they did not deserve it. He knew that everyone was going to be brought in for questioning while they sorted things out, too, with the possible exception of Clark since he'd left the mansion before the police had descended on the situation. Brand was grateful for that, at least; the intern deserved the break, and the FBI could oversee the inevitable investigation and paperwork concerning Clark's heroics.

Jones was laughing and choking out reassurances, but Brand was pretty sure that he could see tears of relief - or maybe of pain, since he was so sore - on the kid's face even from across the room. The reunion was nice to observe, especially since Brand was getting rougher treatment from the officers who were cuffing him as a matter of procedure; having something more pleasant to focus on was helpful.

"Sir, we're going to need you to step back."

No sooner had Brand noticed the discrepancy in treatment than an officer stepped over to the reuniting father and son and moved to separate them.

"Well, that's gonna be a no. I'm going to need _you _to give us some space. I'm sure you can find something else to do for now," FP retorted, barely sparing the officer a glance.

Brand grimaced; that was not likely to go over well. Two other officers moved quickly to back up the first one.

Suddenly FP's arms were being pried off of Jones and the man was being forcibly herded away from his son. FP began protesting angrily and trying to shove the officers off of his arms. "Hey! That's my son! He's injured, and if you think for one second that I'm just going to stand back and-,"

Two of the officers jerked FP backward roughly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"Dad? _Dad_! They're not real cops, Brand!" Jones sounded slightly panicked, but mostly like he was getting ready to attack everyone in range around him. His adrenaline was no doubt still spiking through the roof. "It's a setup!"

Oh Lord. It had never occurred to Brand that he might need to talk Jones through how to get arrested without getting himself killed.

"Hey - _no _\- these are real cops. Will someone please show him a badge? He's scared and he's hurt, and you can't just be yanking him away from his father like that!" Brand had visions running through his head of Jones, after everything they'd gone through, being violently subdued by a police officer who - rightly - saw the kid as a threat.

"Oh, we know all about you two. We got quite the information dump about you this evening." The officer grasping Brand's left arm was almost sneering, which made Brand think that he must be nervous. That wasn't good. "Trying to play games isn't going to get you anywhere."

"This is not a game. We're with the FBI. He's been held hostage in this house; he's underage. Get it together and let him hug his dad," Brand gritted out.

"Uh-uh. Don't let anyone try to tell you that he's just some kid. That's been their cover story for at least a year, but we know better; he's violent and he's killed before. Don't take any unnecessary risks." The man holding onto Brand was calling over to the officers who were now surrounding Jones.

The teenager was looking around himself in a panic as he realized that he'd just been accused of murder.

Brand had a very, very bad feeling about where this was all about to go.

But then it didn't.

"Do you really want to start shooting holes in FBI jackets? I _will _return fire, and I think you can guess how that story ends." The words cut viciously through the room as Agent Williams shoved her way between the police and Jones. "Here; put this on, intern."

Jones was quickly slipping his arms into a windbreaker that had 'FBI' plastered all over it. Williams jammed an FBI baseball cap onto his head as well. For a darkly humorous moment Brand wondered if she was going to conclude by wrapping the kid in an American flag. "Any questions?"

"Oh, come on. He's not-," An officer immediately and skeptically objected.

"You want to go down this road with me? Fine. Let's go down this road." Williams seemed to be warming to the conflict and her smile promised a world of hurt to anyone who crossed her. "He's our intern, whether you like it or not, and you will respect that. You might have to take him in to sort things out, but you will _not _manhandle an injured American - whom you have already been informed is underage - nor will you step so much as a _millimeter _off of the line of due process at any point, bucko."

Agent Williams was toe to toe with the objecting officer now. "Now, who thinks that I should ride along? Because I'm not convinced that you can handle that much professionalism all in one go without a few _reminders _here and there."

"Nobody's riding along-," Another officer spoke up; he seemed to be the one issuing orders.

"O-oh goodie; I guess you're being hung out to dry," Williams' tone turned falsely sympathetic as she continued to address the lower-ranking officer. "They must really dislike you. I know that I'd hate to be the one on deck and visibly at the center of this sort of international screwup, but I guess scapegoating is a problem everywhere."

The officer standing closest to Jones began looking around himself nervously.

Brand wasn't sure if he was feeling more pride or envy as he listened to Williams' incensed rant, but he figured it didn't matter: Jones was calming down and the officers were all taking a step back from the hurricane-force confrontation with Agent Williams.

"FP, do you think you can take it from here?" Williams motioned Jones' father back over. FP had been given an FBI windbreaker and baseball cap as well, and he moved swiftly to put his arms around Jones in a protective gesture. "You can be the one to ride along. Just keep showing people your passports until they eventually come up with someone who knows how to read. This shouldn't stick, and with any luck we'll have you two in a hotel tonight, planning how you're going to spend your enormous lawsuit payout."

Brand met Williams' sidelong glance with an approving nod.

"You on the other hand are going to take a little longer, Davies. Per usual." Williams spoke wryly - she smiled, though. "Nice job here. I thought you'd screw it all up, but this was elegant. You wedged yourself right into the teeth of it, so nobody even attempted to get out. I think it never occurred to them that you were quite this insane. To be honest, even I can't believe you risked this little punk's life-," Williams patted Jones' shoulder, "-to make sure that you busted every warm body. But when you're right you're right."

There was going to be a lot of explaining to do in the days to come, but Brand was incredibly relieved to hear that the bust had been a success - nobody had gotten away - and that even now folks were regarding their plans - their mistakes - and their haphazard, messy recovery as being in some measure intentional.

"I'm definitely going to need to hear how you got the guns emptied, too." Williams shook her head as she gave an impressed whistle. "That was some trick."

"It sure was." Brand found his voice then, as he caught Jones' eye across the room. "I don't get any credit for that one, though."

Jones grinned and tipped the brim of his FBI cap before settling his hands onto FP's arm where it was still wrapped around his chest. Brand gave him a small salute back.

"Really? You did something useful, intern?" Williams nodded her approval to Jones, and suddenly her smile was mischievous. "Well, good. It was about time."

**00000**

**Score for Williams getting the last word in a chapter! (I didn't see that coming :-D) I hope you enjoyed and that you are having a wonderful weekend! I'll enjoy any and all notes as the story still. does. not. end. ;) Wrapping up the whole series miiight just be working out this way, and I hope it ends up feeling satisfying and not just belabored. You'll have to let me know, because I'm just having fun over here!**

**-Button**


	27. Chapter 27

**We made it through another week! And here's another chapter... :-D**

**Living Lucid Dream, I loved your gushing over Clark and Trig so much! Of all the folks coming into their own in a big way, I think they're contenders for the most profound growth. :) And I'm so glad that Williams' development makes sense, and that her line worked as well for you as it did in my head! :-D Thank you also for the lovely compliment about tying the Toronto narratives together. The story is eventually going to end (I'm seeing the end game clearly now!), but I hate one-paragraph epilogues that begin "five years later..." or whatnot; I prefer that loose ends be addressed satisfactorily, which could maybe sort of possibly be a bit too much (but we'll see!). Thanks so much for the feedback that, at least so far, that is working and not feeling like it's dragging. May it continue in that way as we finish the series off!**

**Skyrider45, oh man the mental image of Clark in the canon makes me grin; he has become one of the most fun characters to write, and I would enjoy seeing the actors bring the story to life (woo-hoo!). Also, casting Clark would be amazingly fun (though the idea of casting someone to play Brand makes my head hurt... :-D). By the way, I'm loving everyone's instincts at this point in the series, because the guesses are so good. Gunnar surrounded by Serpents and feeling like a cat in a bath is a great image, 'are these cops legit?' is a totally fair question at this point, and of course - it is very wise to keep an eye out for red tape and lingering threats since they do tend to come back and haunt us. I'm working through them and I sincerely hope that I at least catch the important ones in our final chapters! I am so glad you liked Williams' line, too - I always worry when I like something a little too much, so that was reassuring to hear. :) You are so welcome, too; thanks again for reading and reviewing so faithfully. It's such an encouragement as we get closer and closer to the end!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Max was sitting in the back of the car, right where he'd been left, and Clark waved as he approached with Jughead's belongings and two dogs.

There was no return wave.

"Hey," Clark opened the back door when the locks clicked open, and slid in alongside Max. He swiped the child locks off so that he could close the door without trapping them both inside. "You doing okay? Did anyone come near you?"

That was when Max noticed what Clark was holding. "Whoa. Where did you get a puppy?"

"It's Jughead's. I have no clue how he got her, but I guess we're taking her home."

Max's face had lit up for a few moments, but by the time Clark had shifted to offer the puppy to him he was frowning and shaking his head.

"You're seriously turning down this little face?" Clark asked teasingly, holding up the pup's muzzle toward Max. "This might be the cutest German Shepherd I've ever seen."

"But it's Jughead's, right?" Max's tone was cool. "He has another dog now?"

"I'm sure there will be negotiations, but I kind of can't picture anyone telling him no."

"Huh. Me neither." Max's tone became still darker. "He really does get everything."

Oh. Clark was suddenly struck by how this must look. The world had basically ground to a halt for Jones. While the bust had always been the plan, it probably seemed to Max as though three armies had mobilized for just one teenager - and Max knew from painfully real experience that the same had not been done for him.

"Max, you do know that the FBI is going to protect you, right? Make sure you go somewhere stable, and follow up so that nothing bad happens?" Clark wasn't sure he could guarantee anything specific, but that seemed like the bare minimum that the FBI would ensure when they transferred his case after debriefing.

"Sure. _Stable_. Okay." Max's tone radiated sarcasm. "I won't have Trigger, and _I_ won't get a pup-,"

Before Max could quite manage the word 'puppy,' he clammed up and turned his head away. Clark tried not to look too closely at him; it sounded like he was getting emotional and his body language was screaming for privacy.

"I don't know what things will look like, Max. But I do think that things like that happen one step at a time. It might take years, but eventually you could have a whole family of your own. Get a puppy even. And... I think Jones knows that he's pretty lucky. He tends to share when he can, and I think he wouldn't mind sharing Trig and this little girl with you." Clark wasn't sure that this was comforting in the slightest, but he felt compelled to defend his wingman. "You know, he shares Trigger and Special Agent Davies with me quite a bit."

"I don't _want _to share Brand. He's a jerk."

"See? You already want something different. Something all your own. I think you'll get there, too, even though I couldn't tell you when that might be."

Max did not react for a few seconds. Then he reached a hand over without looking up. The gesture was sullen and petulant, and for a moment Clark wasn't sure what he was doing.

"Well? Can I hold her or not?" Max demanded.

"Oh! Yeah. Here you go." Clark handed the puppy over, relieved that Max was relenting even a little bit. It was a start.

"What's her name?"

"You know what? She doesn't have one yet, and I hear that Jones is in the market for suggestions. Is that something you're any good at?" Clark wasn't sure that this was a wise gambit, but he'd see what happened and take it as it came.

"I might be. But if I name her, that means she's part mine." Max looked over then. "It can be, like, ten percent and she'll live with Jughead. But it means I get to visit sometimes."

"Um, I think that depends on how good the name is," Clark hedged.

"Challenge accepted." Max smiled when he saw Clark's startled reaction to his words. "You get to be the one to tell Jughead and FP about the deal, too."

"Hmmm. You drive a hard bargain, Max. We'll see." Clark smiled back, though.

Hopefully FP wouldn't kill him for opening this door to Jones and Max remaining in touch.

"What's your name, huh?" Max spoke to the puppy - and laughed when his warm tone drew Trigger's attention to the newcomer in the car and the much larger dog suddenly climbed halfway into Max's lap to get a better view of the puppy. "Trig, this is your sister. Or girlfriend, maybe, but that's kind of a creepy age difference, so hold your horses on that."

Clark relaxed as Max relaxed.

A few minutes later, both were startled when Agent Quinn knocked on a window to announce her arrival and then slid into the driver's seat.

"I heard what happened, Clark," Agent Quinn said brusquely, her eyes holding Clark's as she nodded toward Max to make it clear that the teenager should not be told anything about what had transpired in Rose's mansion. "You have two major reams of paperwork ahead of you, so don't expect to be getting sleep anytime soon."

"Yes, Agent Quinn." Clark ducked his head. It was starting to seem like the sun might be coming up soon, and he was tired enough that he wasn't sure he could come up with much more of a response on such a fraught topic.

"Do you have your documents on you right now? Passport and all of that?" Agent Quinn rested her hands on the steering wheel and turned a second time to make eye contact with Clark, who nodded. "We'll need it to make the hiring process official; SAC Wilson would like us to do that before you begin working on any of the reports about Rose."

"What?" Clark's jaw dropped.

"Wilson's on her way right now. We've got some very complicated international issues arising with Brand and Jughead. Joaquin DeSantos is right over there-," Sarah pointed, "-with his underage boyfriend whom he ran away with across an international border - a boyfriend whose father is an American sheriff who is driving here right now. And is that a _puppy _you've got back there?" Agent Quinn did not wait for an answer. "That just figures. We need to get anything and everything under control that we can, and it's your lucky day because that includes your actions, Clark. It was Wilson's idea to get your hiring finalized so it was at least in the system first, for whatever that's worth."

"If the puppy is a problem, you can tell people that she's mine," Max offered. "What happened to Rose?"

Clark tapped Max's shoulder chidingly. "You can't keep the puppy. And nothing happened."

"Just trying to help out the FBI." Max grinned. "What, did you shoot him? Because that would be awesome."

When Clark froze, Agent Quinn cleared her throat loudly.

"Wait, he's dead?" Max lit up. "You _killed _him, Clark?"

"_No_!" Clark shook his head emphatically. "Where do you even - how do you come up with this stuff?"

Max looked suspiciously from Clark to Agent Quinn. "I have to come up with stuff. You all keep lying to me."

"Well, we're not lying now." Clark sighed. "Nobody's dead."

"Dang it." Max went back to focusing on the puppy he was patting. "You should have killed him."

"Max," Agent Quinn spoke up from the front seat, "let's hold off on saying things like that. And let's get you back to the apartment to get some sleep while the rest of us work. Do you think you could puppy-sit for the night?"

"If you can afford my hourly rate, then sure."

Clark rolled his eyes.

"You know, it just so happens that we've budgeted for a few expenses, Max." Agent Quinn smiled at him. "I might like a discount since you'll both be getting some sleep, though."

Max considered this. "Done. I'll only charge you ten bucks an hour. Plus expenses."

"What do you mean, expenses?" Clark eyed him curiously.

"You know, snacks for me. Puppy food. _Expenses_." Max gave Clark a disdainful look. "You must suck at negotiating. Maybe you should let me read your contract before you sign anything."

Clark laughed. "You know what? Maybe I should."

**00000**

FP figured that he was being vindicated in some ways, but unfortunately he would much rather have been left looking like he'd been terribly off base - foolish - in the spring with his accusations about Brandon's previous doings in Toronto.

He was currently riding along in a police vehicle with an older, very kindly officer named Logan up front with him and Jughead and Brandon still cuffed in the back. Logan had volunteered to drive them, and that offer had been met with enthusiasm - both from the Toronto law enforcement and from FP, since the officer reminded him quite a bit of Tim.

Who was probably wondering why in the world FP had disappeared. He should probably make a phone call at some point.

Logan's calming demeanor was helpful, and he'd been very reassuring and friendly while things had continued to deescelate, but they were not out of the woods yet: FP had not missed when Jughead silently asked his godfather if they should break out of the cuffs, and Brandon had given him a horrified look - and then begun talking Jug through what was going to happen next, to prepare him and hopefully head off the next crazy idea.

Which was when Logan chimed in gently: "Well. We know a little too much about you and your son for that to be the plan."

When Brandon froze, FP's heart sank.

"Uh... this is my godson," Brandon corrected. "You're sitting next to his father."

"I see. We didn't receive any information about you, sir." The officer glanced at FP. "But I imagine you'll have some questions to answer. From what I understand, the paperwork we were sent on Jonas and Brandon checked out, though; it's legitimate."

"Is that so?" FP kept his voice level, but turned awkwardly in his seat to glare at Brandon. Nice cop or not, Brandon needed to keep his mouth shut while he and Jughead were under arrest. "And the odds that the felons you just arrested sent an information dump as a malicious 'parting gift' are what, one hundred percent?"

"To be honest, it doesn't always matter who sends the information or why. And what kind of criminal could get identity paperwork like that legitimized?" The officer was still speaking kindly, but now his tone was bordering on dismissive. "We're going to investigate, of course, but that much seems to be in order. It would take a conspiracy theorist to think otherwise."

"Or could it take a _conspiracy _to make it appear otherwise?" FP asked pointedly.

"Involving those levels of government?" Logan gave him a pitying smile and shake of his head. "I don't think you're bad people. You seem nice enough to me. But you can give up the act, sir. I can't be saying too much, but we've got these two dead to rights and I'd hate to see you enmeshed in their case unnecessarily."

"Brand," Jughead whispered. FP gave him a sharp look, and when he was ignored he could only hope that the officer could not hear his son. "Do they think I'm Jonas? Does that mean they think I'm over eighteen... and do they really think that I _killed _someone?"

Brandon shot FP a helpless look that clearly conveyed that he didn't have the heart to leave Jughead hanging. He leaned closer to the teenager to whisper back. "Look, the fake paperwork job was probably a little too good, and I'm betting Rose beefed it up somehow. That was probably his insurance in case we escaped, since this is the sort of thing that would buy him time to disappear. That means we just have to wait this out; our real paperwork is better. Much more legit."

"How long will that take?" Jughead's eyes were widening. "What happens until then?"

"Eh, a few hours. Nothing much can happen that quickly." Brand shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

The look he gave FP was a lot less confident.

And FP could see that Jughead had not missed Brandon giving him that look either. Great.

"I'm going to make a call real quick here," FP said. He gave Brandon and Jughead a quelling look so that they'd stop whispering together. They looked back at him with a matched set of overly innocent expressions, and FP set his jaw in frustration. "Mary Andrews might be able to fly up from Chicago to make sure things go smoothly from a legal standpoint. Just to be on the safe side."

"Good call. It probably is time to lawyer up." Logan was focused on driving, but he nodded to FP.

FP frowned with new resolve when he heard that, and he hit Mary's number in his phone.

**00000**

Sheriff Keller's latest frustrated call had Fred Andrews rousing everyone from bed. He led them all downstairs to the large dining room and directed the teens to sit while he and Mary stood to confront them.

"Okay. Who else knows anything about Joaquin and Kevin, and where they planned to go after the 'motorcycle ride'?" Fred asked. "Sheriff Keller is driving up to Toronto right now with a retired officer, and apparently Joaquin and Kevin gave both the FBI and the Toronto police the slip."

Archie looked confused. "They're coming here, Dad. Didn't I already tell you that?"

Maybe he had. The night was already becoming a blur to Fred. But he was not sure, and he suspected that he would have remembered that minor detail. "_Really_, Archie?"

Mary's cell phone began to ring, and she silenced it with an irritated expression. "It's awfully early for phone calls."

"I think you'd better take that, Mary," Fred made a face. "It might be a related emergency."

"Oh. That's true; I was just thinking that all of this was the most pressing situation-," Mary took the call before it went to voicemail. "Hello?"

There were a few moments of silence on their end while Mary listened before she continued.

"FP? No, that's not a problem. I'm actually in Toronto now. Where should I meet you?"

Fred's eyebrows shot up; the teens began chattering loudly around the dining room table; and Betty sprang up to approach Mary, most likely to try and overhear FP's side of the conversation.

"Uh-huh." Mary looked confused and worried. "I'll come right away. Don't let them talk to anyone until I get there."

Archie made a face as his mother hung up the phone. "Is it medical malpractice? Jughead _cannot _catch a break. Can I come?"

"Fred." Mary gestured helplessly.

It was apparently not medical malpractice.

"All right!" Fred clapped his hands together once, redirecting everyone's attention. "There's not a lot of information yet, but we're going to need breakfast and coffee. Mrs. Andrews needs to go find out what is going on, and we need to be ready for when Sheriff Keller arrives - and Joaquin and Kevin. Who's up for cooking, and who wants to set the table? I'll need someone to Google a bakery, too."

"No need," Alice said. "There's a great one just a few blocks away. I used to live here part time, remember?"

"Yes. That's right." Fred nodded, feeling even more disoriented because he'd momentarily forgotten that. Not that he'd ever completely forget when FP had barged in the front door of this house and violently accosted her father. Fred shook off the vivid memory. "Coffee first, I think. Sounds good. Let's go."

The teens exchanged glances while filing into the kitchen. Fred pulled Mary aside to whisper swiftly.

"Where are they?"

"They're in jail. Something is very wrong with Brandon and Jughead's passports, and FP thinks they might need legal representation to get it straightened out."

"That doesn't make any sense-,"

"I know. But Joaquin's in town, the Serpents are making moves, and you said yourself that those three seemed to be involved in something to do with a kidnapping and the FBI." Mary raised her eyebrows. "I only got the phone version of events. This might be serious."

Fred nodded. "You go. Call me if I can help, but my current plan is to keep the kids occupied and to get Kevin back to Tom. And, secondarily, to get Joaquin back to the FBI before anyone realizes he's an easy target right now."

"If I'm right, you'll be able to call me and reach the FBI," Mary reminded Fred. "I'll let them know that Joaquin is probably headed here."

"Great. Thanks." Fred walked Mary to the front door.

"Save me some breakfast." Mary smiled. "With a little luck it might not even be cold by the time I get back."

**00000**

Hours later, Mary Andrews, Sarah Quinn, and Mark Patton, the Toronto-based solicitor that the FBI had a relationship with, pored over copies of the paperwork that they'd been furnished by the local police.

It was honestly pretty shocking, even leaving aside the obvious lies and embellishments.

"Huh." Sarah massaged her forehead wearily. "This... explains a lot."

"This is why they're in holding cells, yes," Mark agreed easily. "It's wildly over the top, though, so this shouldn't be too difficult to get thrown out. My only question is how quickly we can manage it under the circumstances. There are a lot of moving parts with this case."

Mary gave Sarah a supportive look; that had not been what the FBI agent meant. If any portion of the paperwork was accurate about Brandon Davies, the events of the previous year suddenly looked very, very different.

"Mark is right. Legally, this is not going to be a difficult sell. Getting things expedited might be the challenge, particularly since they think that Jughead's a flight risk and they're refusing to regard him as a minor for the time being," Mary ventured gently. She hesitated before commenting further, but decided to just go for it:

"You know… It's a good thing that we've gotten to know Brandon and Jughead so well, and we know their character." Mary searched Sarah's expression. "It might be easy to be swayed - just a bit - by such a dramatic narrative if we hadn't spent so much time with them, don't you think?"

Sarah's expression indicated that she was not particularly cheered by that perspective on things. "You sound like SAC Wilson."

"She's a wise woman," Mary said mildly. "Do you think she's wrong?"

"About what?" Patton looked between the two women in frustration. "You're not taking any of this seriously, are you? Look, it's falsified information, and it's such obvious overreach that you barely even need me here." The solicitor shook his head at the piles of paper in front of him.

"I mean, isn't all of this," Patton held up a sheaf of papers, "from when Davies was busting a drug ring in Riverdale, and he single-handedly rescued Forsythe from a building just before it exploded? Pitching that as a kidnapping and hostage situation just makes these documents sound like an outdated tabloid."

There had indeed been tabloids running salacious versions of that story in the spring.

"That's true." Sarah was nodding and had clearly gotten back on message immediately for Mark's benefit. She shot Mary another look, though. "It's just... a disturbing mental image. You're right, though. I shouldn't get distracted by how I feel about some of these details."

Mary frowned, but nodded. It was Sarah Quinn's prerogative to make her own decision about what to do with this new possible narrative about Brandon Davies.

After all, they could not be sure what was fact and what was fiction. Only Brandon and Jughead would be able to confirm details, and Wilson had already suggested not leaning too hard on attorney-client privilege since they had a slam-dunk case without that.

If nothing else, the absurd claim that Jughead was responsible for multiple murders was easily disputed, and the timelines demonstrably impossible.

Other things were murkier, though, and some of them seemed more believable than the party line that everyone had eventually come to accept. And yet they were being directed not to follow up on any of those details, which suggested three things:

First and foremost, SAC Wilson wanted to retain Brandon as an FBI liaison and was shielding him from a longer, messier investigation.

Second, Wilson believed that at least some of the deeply troubling information in these documents was true and that the narrative they had previously believed would not stand up to scrutiny.

Third, and perhaps most importantly, Wilson had reason to believe that overlooking any merit in the discrepancies between Brandon's narrative and the documents in front of them was the right thing to do.

Mary had to admit that her instinct was to do the same, particularly in light of what she was learning had transpired over the last few days.

Brandon could not undo any crimes he may or may not have committed, but if anyone had earned the benefit of the doubt - and they were intentionally leaving things in a place where there was plenty of doubt -, then Mary was officially willing to extend that courtesy to Brandon Davies.

If Sarah Quinn had a different way of looking at Brandon, though, as Mary had reason to suspect, then the agent's reaction might have to do with something else entirely. In fact, as she thought about it further, Mary couldn't blame Sarah one bit for her horrified reaction to even a remote possibility that any of this was true.

Moreover, Wilson was not just advocating wiping the slate clean on Brandon Davies. Wilson was actively lobbying for doing it in such a way that even gathering information off the record from Brandon himself would be off limits to Sarah because of her work and security clearance.

Mary regarded Sarah again, but this time with more sympathy and a softer tone when she spoke: "These are disturbing claims. You're not wrong to be upset by them."

Sarah nodded, making only brief eye contact this time.

Patton rolled his eyes, but did not comment further. Instead, he focused once more on the task at hand. "We certainly won't be able to get them out today. I think we should petition to get them out tomorrow, though; even if it's not possible, that should light a fire under someone - even considering that the 'flight risk' argument is basically incontrovertible."

It was common knowledge that Brandon and Jughead had disappeared quite effectively once before.

"I don't like the idea of them being in jail for even one more night," Mary frowned, "but that does seem to be where we are."

At least everyone had been assured (and reassured) of their safety and proper treatment in the jail cells. Agent Williams was still watching over the proceedings with an aggressively gleeful air as she pointed out anything that seemed even slightly suspect.

Wilson had not reined Williams in, either, which seemed to be another statement. Mary was starting to be curious about the SAC, and looked forward to meeting her once she arrived in Toronto to oversee matters in person.

It seemed as though there might be more to Wilson than met the eye.

"At least everyone's rolling on this Marcus Donn character," Mark said cheerfully. "He's made quite a few enemies, and that is going to be extremely useful."

Sarah Quinn looked mildly ill. "That's been a shock in terms of its magnitude, yes. SAC Wilson seems to have suspected this of Donn, but I never dreamed he was so corrupt - not like this."

"So, everyone thinks that he betrayed Rose and sent the Serpents, police, and FBI after them?" Mary Andrews shook her head. "Are their accusations against Donn even credible?"

"Wilson says yes." Agent Quinn shrugged. "And to be fair, some measure of betrayal _is_ why Donn's in custody right now; he tried to roll on Rose's network and make a deal, and didn't realize that we had everything we need - and more - already... and incriminating footage to boot. Insanely incriminating footage. It almost looks staged."

"Oh dear." Mary was surprised to hear all of that. Patton seemed unsurprised, but he would be far more involved in those cases so he'd likely received this information more promptly. "Well, I am glad he tried to make a deal with law enforcement. What was in that footage?"

"Davies sent the footage to SAC Wilson; I only saw it today. It's classified, so I think only lawyers directly involved in Donn's case will view it, but it's... shocking." Quinn rubbed her eyes. "It's not something I'd ever expected of an agent. Let alone a former SAC. There's corruption... and then there's complete moral bankruptcy."

Mark Patton looked as though he thought Quinn was being a bit too indulgent of her 'feelings' again.

Mary knew better, though. The footage must truly be disturbing. Well, good; hopefully Donn would get what he deserved. And hopefully Brand and Jughead had done okay overnight.

**00000**

**00** **_The previous night_** **00**

It was one to a cell.

Brand would have preferred bunking in with the kid, particularly since Jones had been fairly distressed when he'd had to leave FP, but this was second best. If they'd been anywhere near each other in the cell block, that would have been reassuring, but it made some sense; they were both part of the same investigation. They'd either be together and monitored - surveilled in the cell - or they'd be kept apart.

Brand took in the sparse cell he'd been assigned and then stretched out on the bottom bunk. He was overdue for catching up on some sleep, and he'd see what he could do about making contact with Jones in the morning.

The bed was not all that bad, and Brand was not surprised when the next thing he knew it was sometime in the wee hours of the morning.

He wondered what had woken him up, since the general ambient noise of the other prisoners had certainly not kept him awake. Maybe his system was having a little trouble adjusting to the new location.

Brand finally placed the problem, though: a more concerted muttering and jeering was coming from a number of cells away. It sounded like it was picking up momentum, too, which was a very different pattern from the other grunts and noises coming randomly from various directions.

And then one voice pierced the night. The kid was screaming bloody murder.

Brand's blood ran cold. The odds were very good that Jones was just having a nightmare, and likely that had been what stirred up the inmates surrounding his cell. But he couldn't shake the thought that someone might have tried to mess with the kid, and somehow gotten hold of him, or-

"_Brand_!" His voice was agonized. "Help me!"

That was it.

"Fire! There's a fire!" Brand was up and making as much noise as he could manage with the materials at hand in his cell, and was gratified to hear a ripple of panic go through the other inmates - and they began yelling as well. The guards obviously hadn't seen fit to intervene yet, but by God they were going to step in now.

"Jones! I'm right here, kid; talk to me. What's going on?"

Brand didn't hear anything coherent after that, which scared him still further, but the lights suddenly blinded everyone as the guards came flooding in. Brand immediately stopped making a racket, allowing them to zero in on the kid's cell. Sure enough, Jones was still yelling.

"_Hey_! Stop that right now." The guards seemed far too furious as they reached the kid, and Brand was suddenly worried that _they _might hurt Jones if this was an epic cycle of nightmares. It sounded like things were escalating, which didn't seem right - and Brand still couldn't see a blessed thing from his cell.

"Don't hurt him! He's not dangerous." Brand figured he could be forgiven for lying, under the circumstances. He craned his neck to see anything he could. "Is he okay?"

The guards' yelling was getting louder and it sounded like a lot more inmates were getting in on whatever was happening.

"What are you _doing_? Let me help. I can calm him down." Brand knew that wasn't going to happen, not in a million years, but he was having trouble coming up with any plan that might actually be viable and he couldn't bring himself to shut up. "Jones? Can you hear me? What's happening?"

Brand caught something being passed along from cell to cell then: "It's flooded. They broke a pipe and it's a mess down there."

"What's flooded?" Brand demanded of the man housed next to him.

"Some idiot smashed part of his toilet and a bunch of the cells flooded. His neighbors were making a ruckus about it. That made someone have a night terror, and it's all a mess now. We'll be double-bunking tomorrow for sure."

Brand sank down onto his bunk and buried his face in his hands. His blood pressure slowly started to come down.

A guard stopped outside his cell door a few minutes later. "Promise me that you won't ever do that again, Davies, and I'll see what I can do to get your kid moved in with you."

Brand looked up, shocked that they knew he'd yelled out the false alarm - and that they were apparently rewarding him for his trouble. "Really?"

"He's a basket case." The guard looked very uneasy. "And he's in the flood zone. I'm not comfortable putting him in with anyone else while his age is in question. But I'm gonna need you to never again pull that stunt you just pulled."

"Done. Model citizen, right here." Brand raised both hands in a gesture of compliance. "Can you move him tonight?"

"We're sorting it out in the morning. Everyone stays put until we have more eyes on this. But I'll see what I can do."

Brand wasn't going to get better than that. He tried to feel glad about the unexpected development, but he didn't like the distressed sounds that he was still hearing from Jones' general direction, even though they were starting to quiet down - and hearing that the guards had seen enough to decide that the kid was a 'basket case' made his stomach hurt.

He lay back on his bunk and tried to relax. Maybe even sleep some more. It was hard to believe that being in jail was in some ways worse than having the kid running around on Rose's turf (and in reality it was not quite that stressful), but Brand still felt like the loss of agency was about to do him in.

Brand sighed when he heard his name again - this time not screamed in distress, thank heavens, but called out clearly all the same. Curse Jones and his ability to sleep talk.

Brand didn't yell back. Hopefully that would get him some points with the guards and help ensure that the kid was moved into his cell when decisions were made in the light of day.

**00000**

After Kevin and Joaquin finally showed up at Alice's door, Betty, Veronica, and Alice volunteered to make spaghetti for lunch. The rest of the teens had made their way into the kitchen as well, though Joaquin and Kevin were notable exceptions: they were still holed up in a bedroom with Sheriff Keller and Tim, being lectured and touching base with the FBI.

An agent was supposed to be coming by soon to collect Joaquin and then escort him back to his 'undisclosed location' stateside, but apparently there was the slight issue of insufficient personnel on the ground in Toronto.

Sheriff Keller had seemed more than fine with having the opportunity to spend more time lecturing his son's boyfriend on exactly what had been flawed about his reasoning, plan, execution, and the fallout.

Betty knew something that Sheriff Keller did not, though: Kevin had shown up at the door with Joaquin looking pale and shaken. He had clearly not approved of how things had gone down. Keller had had a golden opportunity if his goal was to break up the two teens, but instead his current approach was likely going to strengthen Kevin's resolve - putting him firmly back on Joaquin's side of the conflict.

Oh well. Sheriff Keller would have to figure that out for himself.

"So, what do you think is really going on?" Betty asked Archie. "You know your parents best."

"Honestly? I have no idea," Archie said. "This is really weird. Dad's insisting that we can't visit Jughead, so I'm guessing he's not actually in the hospital. The concert isn't until tomorrow night, so that can't be the reason we can't go see him. Dad seems really worried, too."

"Do you think it could be a custody thing?" Alice made a face. She knew how stressed Jughead had been when FP's custody of him had been more tenuous. "He is getting closer to being eighteen, so you'd think they'd give it a rest at some point."

"Has anyone just tried Googling Jughead?" Gunnar smirked, brandishing his phone.

Sweet Pea chuckled, ignoring Alice glaring at the two of them. "No kidding. Doesn't Jones always make the headlines when he pull crap like-,"

Gunnar suddenly held up a hand, his expression frozen in shock as he regarded his phone. "Uh, for the record, I was only kidding. But I think we have our answers. Holy mackerel."

"What is it?" Betty dropped the spoon she'd been using to stir the spaghetti sauce and she whipped her own phone out of her pocket. In seconds she was wide-eyed and reading aloud.

The group of teens listened in stunned silence to several of the sketchy, obviously incomplete write-ups of the previous night's events. Eventually Betty seemed to reach the end of her ability to Google additional salient details, and they lapsed into silence to absorb what they'd just learned.

"Wow. So Jonas Davies rides again," Alice broke the silence with a wry smile that didn't quite hide her concern. "Well, don't I feel right at home."

**00000**

Brand sighed with relief when Jones was finally ushered into the cell with him, hours later than the guard had predicted. Brand had been fairly certain that this was how it was going to go, but sometimes things could change quickly in a place like this.

"Top bunk, just like old times?" Brand attempted a smile as he tapped the bed frame. He could hear the door closing behind him, and he watched Jones' eyes tracking that nervously.

"Yeah, sure, Brand." Jones moved past Brand to watch the guards walk away.

"We're literally safer here than anywhere we've been in weeks, kid."

"I know." The kid was gripping the bars like his heart might break. This was going nowhere fast.

"Come on. We'll talk through how this works, so you know what to expect. We won't be split up again, in case you're worried about that."

"That could happen?"

Clearly Brand had introduced a new spectre into the ecosystem. Crap.

"No. That's what I just said - we're gonna stick close. And don't forget that I'm a fed who's in jail, so you're not the only one we're worried about, capisce?" That was just the sort of logic that would - counterintuitively - ground the kid.

"Do they really think that I'm twenty? Even though my passport has my correct birth date? Agent Williams said that was all I'd need." Jones had clearly not understood Williams' posturing to be a tactic, and not the final word on the subject.

"You're a Davies until proven innocent, I guess." Brand tried for another smile. "I leveraged that for all it was worth, though, and it might even be for the best. You'd be alone if they'd sent you anywhere else."

"If we're convicted, will we be roommates for… the whole time?" Jones started climbing onto his bunk, and now it seemed like he was avoiding eye contact.

"Convicted for what? We didn't do anything." Brand rapped his knuckles on the kid's spine as Jones scaled the bunk bed. "We're both getting out of here as soon as they get a good look at the paperwork and realize it's all lies. But yeah, for the few days they leave you rotting here, we'll be joined at the hip. Think 'Clark on special orders' close, only without the near death experiences. You have to pay extra for those."

"Brand, we could get serious time. We could-,"

"You're not even up for anything of substance, kid. That murder stuff is obviously made up, and if the whole world lost its mind and convicted you of everything else being claimed, you'd still be out of here in three months, tops. And yeah, you can bet on the roommate setup being in place that whole time, because there's no way that you'd be convicted and I'd be let off."

"Only you'd be here a lot longer. Maybe for _decades_."

"Jones, we've got Mary Andrews working on this. Give her… let's say forty-eight hours before you panic. I think it took her that long to spring you from debriefing, and she's extra motivated this time."

"I'm not leaving without you, Brand." Jones was gripping the edge of his bunk as though he thought someone might try to pull him out of it.

"_Hey_. Don't start that again. Let's get one thing straight right now, Jones: if it looks like you're up for a real criminal record, you are out of here." Brand probably would have been touched by his godson's sentiment under other circumstances, but as things stood he felt only irritation born of worry.

Despite Brand's assurances, this was touchy stuff and Jones could blow it if he said the wrong thing; the odds that they were not being monitored in their cell for anything incriminating - or just information that was useful to law enforcement - hovered right around zero.

"If things go sideways, which they are _not _going to do, I'm cutting whatever deal I need to and getting you out free and clear. Let's give Mary time to work, though, eh?"

"Dad must be freaking out." Jones leaned forward and scrubbed his eyes with his palms.

"He knows that we're safe here, kid." Brand rubbed the back of his neck, realizing a moment too late that Jones probably recognized the gesture as one of his anxious tells.

"Or, if you're worried about custody stuff, I think we're officially in the position where the court has to either declare you to be twenty years old, or they have to admit that you were traveling perfectly legally with your own father and your upstanding FBI liaison godfather. They can't mix and match the two narratives and claim that you're underage _and _at the center of criminal activities. That means your dad isn't in the line of fire this time."

Brand saw Jones absorb that idea and relax slightly. "So our plan is simple: we'll just cool our heels until they decide which way they want to play this. And then we'll make our best pitch and all go home."

He preferred to give Mary Andrews the forty-eight hours, since it was highly likely that she'd have them sprung by then - and it was true that the time Brand would be serving for any deal would end up being a whole lot more than three months.

Brand had a feeling that FP was seeing things a little differently right about now, though, and would prefer that Davies throw himself on his sword right away.

Well, the old man wasn't here.

Brand would keep Jones close and they'd just see how things went. They couldn't possibly get into much trouble in just forty-eight hours.

A sharp, incoherent shout came from a cell somewhere in the block.

Jones startled so hard that the bed frame creaked. Brand winced sympathetically.

"That was one long night, huh? But you're safe, kid, and now we're together. Everyone's locked up, and I guarantee you that every guard here has gotten a memo about keeping you out of any scuffles; I've got them at least half convinced that you're seventeen - and their butts are on the line." Brand frowned. "Come on out of that bunk and I'll teach you a sea chanty or a drinking song or something."

Jones rolled his eyes, but slid down willingly. "I'm no good at singing."

"It's just to keep the other noise out. We don't want to get in trouble, so stay relatively quiet, but this will keep you distracted. I know a few good ones, and you can tell people you learned 'em in jail. How's that?"

The kid smiled in spite of himself, and Brand started wracking his brain for other activities they could do after this one. Keeping Jones busy was always the best strategy for keeping him out of trouble.

"I'll ask about getting one of those SAT prep books, too. Maybe that new one your dad wouldn't buy you, since last year's was so much cheaper." Brand clapped a hand on Jones' shoulder and they sat down together on the lower bunk. "We'll make this a useful vacation from our typical pandemonium."

"I've been reading _The Decameron_. It's kind of like _1001 Nights_, but they're quarantined from Black Death and telling stories to pass the time."

"Perfect. I'll get you that one too. Anything but that book you had when we were stuck in the one-bedroom apartment." Brand quirked his eyebrows and was relieved when Jones smirked at him.

They'd be just fine. They'd both get out in no time at all, and FP would eventually forgive Brand for taking his shot at avoiding serious prison time.

"Stop rubbing your neck, Brand. We're safe in here, remember?" Jones tugged on Brand's elbow. "We'll get some books and then it will all be fine."

"Right. Exactly. So, the best songs are the ones with a whole lot of verses. You ready for this?" Brand pressed his palms to his legs to keep himself from doing anything else to betray his agitation.

Being locked up was doing something to him, and he didn't like it one bit.

"I have literally nothing else to do." Jones was smiling like this was a game. Good.

At least one of them was calmed down. Brand really didn't like the sneaking suspicion growing in his mind that he might be doing something very bad, and very wrong by keeping the kid here.

It was possible that FP, Mary Andrews, and all of them were working to get Jones out.

Only Jones.

And it was also possible that Brand's calculation, for all that it seemed logical in his head, was just one more way of holding the kid hostage. Trying to use Jones to get himself out of hot water, even if it cost his godson something.

Man, he hoped that wasn't the case.

Brand wasn't sure that he could see clear to give up decades of his life, though, just to spare the kid a few days in lock-up. But the thought made him feel… well, maybe a little bit like he deserved those decades in prison.

And if word came that the kid was cleared and nobody had made any effort to sort things out on his behalf, then Brand would have to accept that.

Jones knocked his shoulder into Brand's, clearly waiting impatiently to learn a song.

It made Brand feel even worse when he realized that he was deeply appreciating having the kid's company in the small cell.

It was disconcerting to be here, more than a year after meeting Jones, and still not be sure if he was doing right by the kid or just using him to get one more advantage.

Brand had never dreamed that life could become so fraught and confusing because he cared about someone.

**00000**

**True confessions: I didn't know we'd get anywhere close to 30 chapters in this story, but I did know from the outset that Brand and Jug would land in jail by the end. It had to happen. In fact, it came close to being the prologue, but then I thought that was too far into the story and would either be a spoiler or just confusing. In retrospect, I think that was a wise call. But I have to admit that even when I started this story my eyes were probably too big and I had too many ideas (and limited self control...?). Greedy writing just feels so good. :-D But we're very close! For real! **

**As always, your notes are loved and incredibly encouraging. Thanks again for reading! :)**

**I hope you are having a wonderful weekend! **

**-Button**


	28. Chapter 28

**Here we go with another chapter! :) Thank you for continuing to read!**

**Skyrider45, thanks so much for the great review! Max is showing another side of himself, yes, and I'm very glad you liked having a little 'decompression' amidst the action. And yeah, the internet is conveniently speedy at spreading at least a version of events... :) Oh man, _The Decameron_ as cell reading material was a detail I had in mind before the pandemic really began (it's so random which details come early on when writing a story!), and I actually seriously considered cutting it because it was so on the nose now. But I just couldn't. :) Oooh, I've been fascinated and very thoughtful as folks weighed in on Brand and what outcome would be the right one for him, all things considered. When he didn't die (that would have been so much easier!) I actually had to start figuring that out. Oops? I'll be interested to hear what you think as his arc resolves - at least in part. Also, you are so welcome for the chapter! I hope you enjoy this one also. :)**

**Living Lucid Dream, wow - best review ever! I have (obviously) been wrestling hard with Brand's character development the entire time, and when he survived Rose I found myself with all of your questions (and a few essays of my own!), and now... I have to commit to a course of action. This is not the easiest corner I've ever written myself into, but at the same time I can't imagine ever feeling satisfied (let alone done with the series!) if I didn't really face down some of the questions he's raised. I'm really interested in hearing what you think as we wrap up and get some closure on this part of Brand's arc! (It will never be total and complete closure, because I can't help it... there will always be room for a sequel [or seven] in my mind!) And... that's exactly _one_ of the arcs I'm trying to resolve. Nothing about this is boring (yay!), but I was truly surprised that I actually managed to have this chapter ready to go this week. :-D I really hope you like it!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

FP sighed and pressed himself a little more tightly into the arm of the worn faux leather couch that was located in the small room he'd been ushered into by the FBI to use as a de facto waiting room so that he would not be underfoot while they worked. It sounded like more Serpents were in the building for interviews, and FP didn't want anyone who might be walking down the hall to catch sight of him sitting there.

Things were already complicated enough without the Serpents saying something questionable to him in front of the FBI.

Then he heard a sharp bark. FP's mind went to Trigger first, but he knew that Clark had gone with Agent Quinn and Max back to the apartment they'd been staying in. They'd taken both Trigger and the puppy that Rose had given to Jughead.

This must be some other-

Oh.

"Roger?" FP greeted the dog leading his handler into the room to investigate. "Tim?"

"Hi FP." Tim looked exhausted. As he took in FP, who surely looked just as worn out, his features smoothed into a blank, professional expression that FP had never seen him use before. "So. Is there a little something that you neglected to tell me when I took on the job of deterring attacks on your life?"

"You came up to Toronto with Keller?" FP asked, in part to buy a few seconds to think through his answer.

"We did," Tim confirmed. "Roger's useful when someone's missing, so I often come along when there's a runaway child. And this time, even though we had a pretty good idea where Kevin was, I think Tom needed some moral support."

FP nodded, his expression twisting in sympathy for Tom Keller. By now FP had been told about Kevin taking off with Joaquin; that was another situation that he was currently avoiding. FP didn't want to make things worse for them, for himself, or - more importantly - for Jughead. Any additional screwy connections could serve to complicate the case.

"Are you okay?" Tim seemed to soften as he took in exactly how rough FP looked.

"I'm… All of this has thrown me for a loop." FP decided that was a fair way of saying it. "When you and Roger started working with me, I had no idea that any of this was going on. It's been one horrifying surprise after another." That was also the truth.

Tim seemed to want to believe him, too, because he simply nodded and then joined FP on the couch. "I figured. I couldn't see any of that being true of Jughead or Brand, either, and Clark's obviously having a rough time wrapping his head around all of it."

"You saw Clark?" This was news; FP suddenly craved an update on the intern, Max, and Agent Quinn. "What's he up to? How are Max and Sarah doing?"

"They're a little shorthanded around here," Tim patted Roger as he spoke, "so they needed me to run a few errands. I might be driving Max back stateside later today, too. They seemed fine to me, but everyone's shaken up and I think they're still braced for more to go wrong. You can ask Agent Quinn yourself."

Sarah Quinn walked into the room just in time to hear the last of Tim's words. "Ask me what?"

"Hi Sarah. I didn't know you were here; I was just wondering how you're doing," FP said.

"Huh. Did Tim tell you what he's spent the last half hour attempting?" Sarah radiated irritation as she ran a hand over her hair, but her agitation seemed heavily tempered by something like affection. "Because that explains most of my answer at the moment."

"Oh?" FP looked at Tim, who shrugged.

"I'm looking into becoming a foster parent. I learned a whole lot about teenagers and statistics today-,"

"Max gave him some sort of crazy pitch." Sarah gave FP a look as if she wanted him on her side of this discussion. "He invented a bunch of wild statistics about teenagers being abused in foster care, and now-,"

"The abuse statistics were invented, sure, but he wasn't wrong about the low adoption rates and the potential for poor outcomes," Tim interjected. "I know that he lied about quite a bit of what he told me, Sarah. I've been around the block a few times. That's not why I'm doing this."

FP looked down at Roger. "Yeah, well, no offense but it might have to do with the fact that you have a dog, Tim. Max seems to have set his heart on that after spending some time with Trigger."

"I realize that too." Tim nodded. "He also likes that I'm older. Max seems to gravitate toward people who are under thirty or over fifty-five."

Sarah looked startled by this declaration, but then thoughtful.

"I'm not sure why Max liking Rog is a negative, though," Tim continued. "If he wants to be adopted by Roger more than he wants to live with me, that's no problem; we're a package deal."

"Tim is far too nice," Sarah said, and it sounded like a complaint and not the compliment that most people intended when they used the phrase.

Which made sense. Max was not the kind of kid one took in impulsively - not if one valued their sanity and long-term survival.

"She's going to officially recommend against his being placed with me," Tim confided in FP without a trace of malice. "I'll most likely complete the process of becoming a foster parent while Max is in debriefing, and then with Agent Quinn's vote that Max be placed elsewhere, I'll have to wait until he either gets a good situation - or they get desperate enough to place him with me in spite of Sarah's reservations."

FP raised an eyebrow at Tim's plan, surprised by how mildly he expressed it. "And that's okay with you?"

"Either way, Max gets a home and I have a new avenue that I can use to help folks out." Tim nodded. "That's fine by me."

Sarah sighed, and her smile indicated that she was reluctantly impressed by Tim's attitude. "I guess we'll have to see how things go. Just please keep in mind that Max is a lot more complicated than he seems right now, while he's having his big adventure. Things are going to devolve quickly once he has to start facing some realities and living a more normal life."

"Or he'll be surprisingly resilient once he's got stability and some space and time to process things," Tim offered, and this time his tone had an uncharacteristic edge. "Let's not make this a self-fulfilling prophecy, huh? I really don't like that in social workers."

"_Excuse_ me? I am not a-,"

"Max is complicated," FP interrupted when he saw Quinn's defensive expression and realized that they were about to get off track and likely into a useless discussion of levels of education and years of experience working with kids like Max. "But I agree that he might do okay with the right guardian. Just make sure that's what you are, Tim, and it should all work out. I already know you're good for the hard work."

Both Tim and Sarah regarded FP silently, and he realized with surprise that he'd just weighed in with a semi-retired police officer and an FBI specialist as if he knew as much as either of them on the subject.

And maybe he did.

FP shrugged. "Jughead was and is complicated. But it's not unworkable, even if you're starting from zero. Or whatever negative number I was at with Jug when he came home from debriefing."

Tim and Sarah remained silent, so FP elaborated,

"If I can do it - granted, with a whole lot of help - then anyone can. You just need a supportive community and some good friends to help keep things in perspective." FP paused and then smiled slightly. "And if you're not homeless, you're already way ahead of where I was."

"FP, you always sell yourself short," Fred Andrews said from the doorway to the room. "I'm not sure I could have done everything that you did."

"Fred!" FP stood to pull his friend into a hug. "Did you find DeSantos?"

"That's why I'm here; I came with Tom to drop him off. It was taking too long to get anyone over to the house to pick Joaquin up." Fred patted FP's back. "I also wanted to see you - and for better or worse I'm trusting the kids to sit tight at Alice Carter's place while I check in with you and Mary."

"They seemed fine." Tom Keller appeared in the doorway behind Fred. "They were planning to practice for their concert, and I assume they're at least a little nervous so that should keep them occupied. That's a huge venue they're playing."

"I sincerely hope you're right." Fred smiled, though, and was clearly not overly concerned. "So what happened? I've gotten bits and pieces of the story, and the teens gave me an incomprehensible version of events based on what they read online. Joaquin and Kevin didn't make a whole lot more sense."

"Where are they?" FP looked past Fred and Tom, but neither teen was visible.

"Meeting with Agent Williams and giving a full report." Tom made a face. "They have no idea what they've walked into the middle of. The FBI isn't sure what to make of it, but Joaquin had only partial information - nothing about the bust - and it's taking some convincing before they'll believe that he really just wanted to help you out with tamping down on organized crime in another country. Because that narrative is objectively difficult to believe."

FP's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, you didn't know that was his story?" Keller frowned. "Apparently Joaquin's claiming that he heard that Rose was retiring, and that there were good odds that Davies was undercover as a double agent and in line to take over - but that Davies was either planning to pull out or was going to be pushed out, leaving the Serpents in a bad position. Joaquin then decided that _he _was the man for the job, and that he would spare you the hassle of having to look into things. And Kevin tagged along without asking _any_ of the salient questions."

FP's jaw had dropped while Keller explained, and now he was shaking his head in disbelief. "Where do they get this kind of initiative? I was _never_ like that when I was their age."

Fred laughed. "Are you sure about that? This is part of what I mean about selling yourself short, FP. First of all, you were exactly like that when we were teenagers. Second, you seem to inspire that kind of initiative in everyone around you. I'm not surprised that Joaquin did something dramatic to try to get back into your good graces. I'm also not surprised that Archie's texting me constantly asking how you're doing, since I can't touch base with Jughead. People care, and you're good at bringing that out of them."

FP was still shaking his head as if he could not believe what he was hearing. "Tell Red that I'm fine. You can also let him know what's going on with Jug and Brandon. Make sure he knows that I'm sorry that we won't make it to his concert, too. I promise we won't keep anyone else - you, Mary, and everyone - from attending. We've taken a lot away from him over the past year, and a few hours isn't going to make or break the case."

"Sure. I'll let him know. Archie will appreciate hearing that, but I know he'd just rather everything was resolved for you, Brandon, and Jughead." Fred said, sliding his vibrating cell phone out of his pocket. "He's also been worried about Jug's health since you took off. That part was all made up, right?"

FP shook his head. "We punched up the story, and we haven't actually seen any specialists, but he did pass out and I'm still very concerned about it. We're using that to try and speed things up with the case, but it doesn't seem to be making a dent."

"Oh." Fred was disappointed to hear that Jughead's health issues had not been invented. "Well. I may leave that out for now when I text Archie an update."

"There's no sense in overwhelming everyone," FP agreed.

"Why don't you let me see your texts before you send any, and we can talk through what information is wise to share right now," Sarah Quinn said. She motioned for Fred to precede her out of the room. As they walked out together, FP heard Sarah continue: "How's Betty doing with all of this? She's in Toronto too, right?"

"Wait - Sarah?" FP called after the agent.

"Yes?" Sarah Quinn leaned back into the room.

"Can you look over some text messages for me next? I just realized that Jug's going to kill me if I don't check in with Betty pretty soon with a real update."

"Sure thing." Sarah smiled. "In fact, maybe we'll give her a call together."

"Great. Thanks." FP returned her smile gratefully. "If anything's going to cheer Jughead up when I finally get to talk to him later today, that's going to be it."

**00000**

"Focus. You're still making careless errors," Brand said. "Look at the third problem again, kid."

"I didn't - oh." Jones spotted the issue. "Yeah, okay. I'm a little distracted. That was still good, though, right?"

"With scores like this you'll get into a good state school at the very least." Brand nodded. "Try paying better attention to the next practice test."

A guard cleared his throat just outside of their cell.

"Oh, I guess that's it for right now. It looks like it's time for you to talk to your father," Brand gave Jones a smile that he didn't feel. "Be sure that you give him all of my love."

"Yeah. Sure, Brand." The kid grinned at his godfather as he stood up eagerly. "It sucks they won't let me actually see him, but he'll be happy to hear about the practice test."

"Um, yeah." Brand was pretty sure that FP would not be 'happy' about anything, but he didn't want to discourage Jones. "I'm pretty sure he had to make a special trip to buy you the book, so make sure he knows it was a good investment."

"You bet." Jones grinned again as the door to their cell swung open and he was escorted away.

Brand felt his stomach begin to hurt, but he didn't notice for a minute or two that he'd literally begun wringing his hands.

Man. He was really starting to lose it if he was this worried about FP's reaction to everything.

**00000**

"So we've got a platform. We could use it. I've always wanted to write a protest song, or at least some heavy metal rocker anthem," Gunnar enthused.

Betty had explained to the other teens what Agent Quinn and FP had told her over the phone.

Now, an hour later, she was wondering what exactly she'd unleashed.

"Gunnar, we're trying to figure out how we can help get Jughead out of jail. This isn't a songwriting session." Archie frowned.

"I _know _that. You don't think music is an incredibly powerful tool for exerting social and political pressure? Wow." Gunner leaned back in his chair. "Time for a history lesson, man."

Archie exchanged glances with Veronica. "What do you mean? I know music can do all that. But how could we help Jug with the concept album?"

"Or do you mean that we need to write a new song?" Veronica interjected. "Because a 'heavy metal rocker anthem' is not exactly our style."

"Everyone needs a diverse set list." Gunnar shrugged. "And you've got the strong female vocals we'd need in order to do something elegant if we went the metal route. We should focus on the Canadian national character; we'd literally sing an unsung hero."

"Only Jughead's not a Canadian hero." Veronica was only more confused.

"He's also not 'unsung' unless I seriously misunderstood the entire concept album. I'm talking about Davies. We write a heavy metal rocker about the injustice of throwing Davies in jail for protecting - oh, this is good -,"

Gunnar's expression became even more animated as he thought through the details.

"-for protecting an underage American, making the biggest bust in the history of Toronto, and for being the Canadian liaison that the FBI needed to shape them up. We need to start reading up and watching interviews; this song is going to write itself. He's a dual citizen, right?" Gunnar gestured widely with both arms, as if his imagined song lyrics were obvious to everyone in the room. "So we have some refrain about him being rejected by one of his motherlands or something, and how the Americans steal Canada's warriors with filthy lucre - or in this case by, you know, _not throwing them in jail_ \- and then-,"

"That is not going to make any sense," Veronica objected.

Betty silently agreed, shooting her a supportive look and a nod.

"Um... there are actually a lot of really big deal songs like that, Ronnie." Archie was frowning thoughtfully. "Some are controversial, or literally propaganda, but even that sort of negative buzz can give them more traction and-,"

"And radio play time." Gunnar was grinning as he triumphantly finished Archie's sentence. "I vote that we break it out at the end of the concert. We'll premiere it live and drop a clean recording online at the same time. Nobody can stop us until it's too late."

Veronica thought that 'too late' might well be the right phrasing. She folded her arms. "Exactly _how _elegant will my vocals be?"

Sweet Pea had been listening with a deeply skeptical expression, but when he heard that plan he laughed. "Seriously? You'd try that onstage? You have more guts than I gave you credit for. And you like metal?"

"I'm a _drummer_." Gunnar gave Sweet Pea a look. "What bands do you like?"

"The good stuff."

"Oh. you like the _good_ stuff. Well, I was _going_ to say that I only liked subpar metal, but now that you're saying-,"

Alice had been silent during the conversation, but she rolled her eyes and interrupted the guys' suddenly escalating exchange - and also seemed impressed by the plan. "Knock it off, you two. Archie, as consultant to the band, I am officially appalled… and intrigued. Can you actually write anything decent in such a short timeframe, though?"

"I think we can. Let me pull up some examples on my laptop." Gunnar was suddenly all business. "You're a natural, Veronica; your voice is really intense and you have amazing range. We should come up with something symbolic for costuming, just for that song, so Alice and Sweet Pea can work on that. Think black armbands, but obviously way more distinct than that."

"Cool." Archie seemed lost in thought and he started typing on his own laptop. "You know… a stunt like this could tank the entire concept album. But it's totally worth it if we can help get Jug out."

"Well… think of it this way: we're setting the album on fire. That's either very good or very bad," Gunnar conceded the point. "But you're an artist, Archie. This is how it works."

Betty simply stared at all of them.

When she found her voice, Betty was surprised to hear herself offer a contribution of her own: "I might be able to help. I've been working on an article and I have access to some footage. If you're trying to burn something down, I think this could do it."

This was a terrible idea, Betty thought even as she spoke.

"Rock on." Gunnar grinned at Betty.

Which did not reassure her one bit.

But then Betty thought of Jughead sitting in jail, and maybe even facing time in prison. "I'll start working on it right now."

**00000**

Brand was fully braced for an earful as he picked up the phone and waited for the video call to connect.

"That is one high-tech jail you landed yourself in. I cannot believe they won't let me in to see you two," FP started talking as soon as the call was live.

Which was smart. This call was probably expensive, and it wouldn't last long.

"Jones won't shut up about it either. But it saves the jail a lot of hassle and money, I guess. Did he seem okay to you? I think he's all right, but at this point I'm not sure I'd be able to tell if anything was wrong."

"I know. Being locked up makes everything weird. Jug's fine from what I saw, though; he's decided he's at freaking summer camp, thanks to you." FP paused for a moment and smiled to himself before he continued. "Nice work, Brandon. I don't think I could have done what you've managed. How are _you _doing?"

Brand blinked in response to the unexpected question. "Uh, I'm good. A little twitchy, but you'd know all about that."

"Oh yeah; I did my share of twitching. Hang in there. We're working hard, but they keep trying to throw deals at us for Jughead and not both of you. Mary's given them quite the earful over the latest one, so we should start seeing progress now."

FP frowned with concern. "Everyone in there knows that you're a fed. Are you getting hassled? Should I send anything in particular to give you a little leverage?"

Brand blinked again. And kept blinking. Being in jail must be mucking with his limbic system or something.

FP let out a bark of surprised laughter. "Wait, did you actually think that we were going to leave you in there? Take a deal for Jughead and run? He-ey. Come to think of it, this could be my big chance-,"

"Look, I'm sorry, FP." Brand cut him off. "I know Jones shouldn't be in here, and I'm a whole different story. But-"

"Hang on - Brandon, stop. That's not something we're even considering. Take a deep breath." FP's tone lost all traces of humor and he suddenly looked very concerned. "Jughead will survive a few days in jail, especially now that he's bunking in with you. He and I talked it over. Not only is keeping your cases fully interlocked the best legal strategy according to Mary Andrews, but Jug wouldn't hear of taking a deal unless it was for both of you."

FP seemed to be watching closely for Brand's reaction now.

This level of concern for his wellbeing was about to overwhelm Brand all over again.

"Jughead said he had a bad nightmare before he was moved in with you," FP continued when Brand did not say anything. "We're keeping track of stuff like that; it's going to give Mary more fuel for getting your cases prioritized and dismissed quickly. It's starting to look like a game of hot potato as people realize what a minefield they've stumbled into by locking Jughead up with the big boys. He's unbelievably proud that he's helping." FP smirked.

"So Brandon, your job is simple: keep your mouth shut and let the lawyers do the talking for you. And keep doing what you're doing, acting as cruise director for Jug. Although I'd appreciate it if you didn't strong arm me into buying any more books that I already told him no about."

Brand still wasn't sure he'd entirely absorbed what he was being told, but he had an answer for that, at least: "His scores are up on the latest practice test."

FP looked startled for a moment, and then he laughed heartily. "Trust you two to be keeping score… Okay; thanks, Brandon. You keep his studies on track and we'll get you out. Mary says it's not even a matter of proving the evidence and accusations are fabricated so much as it's a matter of speeding things up to their obvious conclusion. As long as you two can stay sane in there, it's a waiting game that we can win. No question."

"That sounds… Thanks, FP. And I'll, uh, plan to leave Riverdale this week," Brand said, avoiding eye contact. "I'll send birthday cards and call to cook together or whatnot; whatever you think is best. I'd also really like to take the kid rock climbing sometime before he heads to college, if you'd consider letting me do that." Brand figured he'd better get that on the table while he had the chance. "But I get it; it's time… I'll get out of the way and I'll stay there this time."

FP seemed stunned into silence. He gestured broadly in mute frustration before he found the words he was looking for. "_Hey_. What is wrong with you? We have had this conversation before; don't you _dare _punish Jughead to salve your ego, Brandon."

"Wait… hang on, what?" Brand had expected an offer of help with his packing, to hurry him on his way.

"You are in the process of losing a whole lot of face. I am well aware of that." FP scrutinized Brand through the video, and seemed to be actively weighing whether or not to start yelling at the younger man. "You're going to spend the rest of your life owing a lot of people for stepping up to help you and, knowing the way you think, I bet it _would _be easier for you to do the time in prison and then reenter society on your own stubborn terms. But hear me on this: _you need to man up_."

FP regarded Brand intently as he continued. "And so help me, you had better not even _consider _disappearing on Jug. You owe a debt to certain members of society, Brandon, but the way I see it - and the way a few other people see it -, spending time in prison doesn't really do anything meaningful to pay that debt. Leaving Riverdale and starting over does even less, and only protects your ego from facing the people who are going to look at you differently from now on. Sarah Quinn, just for instance."

Brand frowned, but had no response. He felt caught entirely flat-footed by this turn in the conversation, and his stomach was churning painfully yet again.

"Now, SAC Wilson asked me if I'd be willing to help out, just hypothetically," FP continued, "if there was someone - a person recently made unemployed - who was brought on by the FBI as a full-time, very low-paid technical advisor for a period of time. Maybe for months, or even a year or more, depending on how things go."

Brand nodded, still wondering where FP was going with this. The arrangement with the FBI sounded familiar; he and Wilson had not gotten into a lot of detail, but several hypotheticals had been raised when they'd talked before he, FP, and Jughead had left together for Toronto.

This was the least pleasant option, and a close relative to the one typically in play when convicted felons made a deal in lieu of spending time in prison.

Which was understandable, and even downright generous, given the quality and quantity of information that Rose had just dumped into Wilson's lap. Brand could have no complaints, even though he had a feeling that Jones would be outearning him at the RA in the very near future.

FP continued. "It sounded like the person would have no savings or assets to speak of after having made a few 'charitable donations,' whatever that means-,"

Brand did not comment, and he tried to avoid reacting, but he instantly recalled one of the stranger lines of questioning from Wilson about Brand's plans to buy a house in Riverdale. She'd asked pointedly about his townhome in Toronto, his plans for purchasing a house locally with cash, and then she'd inquired about FP's mortgage. The whole thing had reeked of judgment at the time.

And, to be fair, 'charitable donation' was one way of putting it if she did expect Brand to anonymously turn over his assets to the Joneses, and perhaps to a few other affected parties as well; straight up 'restitution' was another phrase for it, Brand supposed. And, in a weird way, the idea of his assets - his ill-gotten gains - being given away made him feel slightly less guilty about the whole situation.

Where that would leave him, though, Brand did not know. Finding gainful employment to keep himself afloat was about to get dicey.

"_-and_ they'd have to sign away their rights to work in quite a number of industries for that period of time, so don't get any ideas. My 'connections' at Andrews Construction also came up, since Fred always needs people for weekend shifts." FP cocked his head noncommittally.

Aha. That would work for employment, particularly if he put in long hours on the weekends. Brand relaxed slightly; he could live with that.

FP continued, responding to Brand's relieved facial expression: "Hold on, though. I'm not entirely sure about that last part, because the FBI isn't the only one with a claim. Jug hasn't got a lot of time before he goes away to college, and until then I think that bringing in cash on the weekends might be secondary to some other things this person might do to 'repay society.'"

Brand was back to blinking as he suddenly got a clearer glimpse of the picture that FP was sketching out for him. "You mean you'd actually consider letting me stay with you? After all of this?"

"I think an apartment is a wiser idea, and you'll probably need a roommate to make ends meet until you get clear of the probationary period and are allowed to earn a meaningful paycheck again." FP regarded Brand seriously. "But yes, until you're able to manage a place of your own, I'd be willing to let you keep your room. Of course we'll renegotiate what that will look like this time around. For instance, I hear that you're already on the hook for some chores since you lost a bet with Jughead." FP smirked.

Seconds passed in heavy silence as Brand fought back an overwhelming surge of emotion.

"So, uh, how's Clark doing?" Even with the breather, Brand was feeling unsteady under the weight of his relief, and the subject change should be entertaining at the very least.

"Clark? You'll like this. He's working with Agent Quinn and begging to be sent undercover to your jail as a plant to gather intel." FP smiled when Brand facepalmed. "He misses you two and he's worried about Jughead. He wants to know what other books and supplies you two would like, by the way. I think he'll feel better if he can send you a care package."

"That's easy: snacks for Jones. He's eating half of my food along with all of his own and still looking hungry." Brand shook his head in consternation. "1800 calories, my foot."

FP nodded. "Oh, I remember vividly. We'll get you a box of protein bars and whatever else is calorie dense and packs well. Do you have any use for something you can trade easily? Cigarettes are out, but I can look into what passes for currency these days."

"Sure, but they've got the kid gloves on, so don't go overboard. We may not have any need for that kind of thing if they keep us quarantined like they have so far."

"That's what Jughead said." FP nodded once.

"Checking up on his story?" Brand felt a slight smirk tug at his features, in spite of himself.

"Of course I am. He's acting like… Archie Andrews." FP shook his head.

"Well-adjusted?"

"Maybe." FP seemed to consider that. "Except you're not supposed to be that well-adjusted in jail. That's kind of the point."

"Jones is a contrarian to the last. At least it's finally working for us and not against us." Brand's smile was sincere this time.

"Well. Let's not bankrupt the legal fund on chatting," FP began to wrap up the conversation. "Go make sure he's studying and not just reading for pleasure."

Brand nodded. "Sure thing, FP. And… thanks. I'd be embarrassed over my lack of faith in you all, but that would be no more than what I deserve, so-,"

"You're family. End of story." FP cut Brand off firmly. "I mean, don't be naive; other people will certainly rub your nose in this for the rest of your life. But you should know right now that I won't. Forgiveness means something to me."

Brand figured that was true. FP would know more about forgiveness than most people.

"Now… keep your head down and try to have some of the fun that Jughead's somehow managing to have in there." FP gave Brand a teasing look as he lightened the tenor of the conversation.

"You bet." Brand managed another sincere - grateful - smile as he ended the call.

The smile lingered as Brand approached the cell he was sharing with the kid. That is, right up until a major sign that things had changed wiped it off of his face: there was a mattress on the floor of the cell.

Brand's mind went to Clark's offer to go undercover in the jail. It could be that he and Jones hadn't been chatty enough for whatever surveillance the authorities had set up in their cell.

And so they'd planted a snitch to move things along.

Well, Brand was pretty sure that the kid was well trained enough not to let anything slip. This was embarrassingly obvious, and probably a gesture that bespoke desperation on the part of the prosecution.

It might even be a good sign.

"Hey. We've got company?" Brand waited while the cell door was opened for him. Jones was up on his bunk, tucked self-protectively away from the newcomer. Good; he definitely hadn't gotten chatty if he was spooked.

"Oh, yeah. The gang's all here." Roy looked up from his mattress.

Ohhh, crap.

**00000**

**We're almost there, but... loose ends, right? :-D Your notes will be particularly cherished, because I do think next chapter miiiight be our last one. :) We shall see!**

**Thanks for reading! I hope you're having a lovely weekend!**

**-Button**


	29. Chapter 29

**Oh man, you know that feeling when you have the end in sight, and you think "hey, it will be a long chapter, but I feel like it's all going to fall into place"? The feeling that is usually followed by... disaster? Yeah, health news was complicated yet again (and after docs reassuring me that stuff was SO unlikely and then it coming up snake eyes, I'm feeling very Han Solo right now: "Never tell me the odds!"), so I made the executive decision to post a short chapter this week and then regroup and take a little more time on finishing things off. Life is never as boring as it could be, and this time that is an unfortunate truth instead of an exhilarating one. But it's probably all curable, and recovery (for real this time?) can begin again in just a few weeks. And, though I hear the siren song of the sequel increasing in volume because writing is my favorite form of stress relief when health issues arise (ruh-roh), I have every intention of having this story finished and a true writing hiatus in full swing before going anywhere near an OR. (here's hoping that life cooperates!)**

**Living Lucid Dream, thank you so much for the encouraging review! Tim is an increasingly rich character, I agree, and I'm interested to see where both he and Max end up by the end! I have loved writing FP so much, too (I think that's obvious by now!), including his laying down some law with Brand as they reach what may actually (finally!) be a long-term equilibrium. I'm also excited about the concert; I love live music a great deal, and it's so satisfying to write something where I think the characters would have a blast IRL - even if law enforcement and parents are more likely to have minor heart attacks. And yay for finally resolving Roy's arc, even if this is a bait-and-switch non-last chapter after all!**

**Skyrider45, thank you so much for the amazing compliment about the growth of support networks and that theme over course of the stories. I've been sort of fighting back (I promise!) against an overgrowth of OCs as I fall in love with one after another, and weaving them in logically and meaningfully has been my goal. It means the world to me that it's coming through the way I'd hoped, and that the characters contribute more than just mechanisms for 'the next plot point' or whatnot. I also love, love, love your enthusiasm for the concert! I know that the music plots have been a bit controversial in how they are integrated into the show itself, and I have had my fingers crossed that the subplot would weave in organically - and so your enthusiasm makes me so happy! I have sadly not been to a rock concert in a while, but this is making me long for normalcy to return so that I can get one on the calendar... :-D I'll love hearing your thoughts about this chapter, even though it's briefer and we're not at the promised conclusion just yet!**

**Welcome back, Guest! You slid in your review right before I posted this chapter, so I'm thrilled to include a very happy shout-out to you: I'm so glad you're continuing to read along and enjoy the story so much! :-D**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"This cannot be a good idea." Alice was grinning, though, so Sweet Pea figured she didn't really mean it.

"That's what makes it perfect," Sweet Pea replied. He returned her grin, with interest. "Adding another bad idea fits. It makes sense. I mean, to be fair, it's even part of the reason Davies is here."

They had just accepted a special delivery of Serpents jackets for the concert's surprise song from a man named Banjo - who had insisted on being compensated with as many tickets to the concert as the band could get their hands on.

Apparently having the Serpents jackets featured in a major concert venue was something that a whole lot of bikers wanted to see in person.

"So we're definitely not telling anyone in the band about this until the last possible moment, am I right?" Alice ran her hand over the stitched leather of one of the jackets.

"Uh, yeah. Unless you really want to have this out with Gunnar ahead of time." Sweet Pea widened his eyes and shook his head. "Because I am definitely not having that conversation if I can avoid it."

"I'm just making sure we're on the same page." Alice nodded. "But yeah. It should work; it's definitely a statement."

"I hope FP doesn't mind." Sweet Pea bit his lip as it occurred to him for the first time that the Serpent King might have some strong feelings about the commercial use of his gang's symbol.

"Ha. You are kidding, right? He's so totally gonna flip out." Alice's grin widened with anticipation. "I cannot _wait _to see his face."

"Gre-eat," Sweet Pea groaned. "Don't say that so cheerfully; that would mean I'm dead meat. And you really need to stop messing with FP. He's cool."

"Um, okay. But if he's half as cool as you always claim, then he should be able to take the heat." Alice raised an eyebrow.

"You are nothing but trouble, Alice Carter," Sweet Pea declared, but his tone was warm. "And I wasn't saying that he couldn't take it. I do, however, think that you might be taking on more with him than you realize."

"Whatever, Sweet Pea. I'll believe that when I see it." Alice was completely unconcerned. "So what else should they wear for this song? Do they have a full set of lyrics yet that we can see, for inspiration? I can probably whip something up if they donate some clothing to the cause. I've even got a sewing machine here."

"I can go ask." Sweet Pea turned toward the room where the band had holed up together to write the song, but then he turned back to face Alice again. "You might check on Betty. Make sure that she actually has the footage, and that she isn't doing anything lame with it. And get all the faces blurred except for Jughead and Davies; they're all over the news, so they can't say too much about it, but nobody else has signed off on this."

"Good call." Alice stroked the jacket once more. "This is really getting exciting, huh?"

Sweet Pea hesitated. He folded his arms and cocked his head to one side while giving Alice a more searching look than her question seemed to warrant before he replied. "Maybe. We'll see how it goes."

Alice gave him a questioning look in response to his strange body language, but Sweet Pea turned away and headed to check with the band.

Alice shrugged it off as she went in search of Betty. Sweet Pea had his moods; it was not her job to figure them out.

**00000**

Jughead didn't want to leave his bunk, but Roy was goading Brand and it was starting to seem like it might be safest if Jughead swapped bunks with Brand and acted as a buffer.

Because Brand was way, _way_ off of his game for some reason.

Nothing bad had happened yet, but tensions were high and the situation was only getting worse. Jughead was even starting to have visions of them reenacting the training from the townhome basement, right here in the cell, and someone getting seriously injured in the tight quarters.

Or just into huge trouble that got him and Brand separated again.

"Punching that meal ticket one more time, huh?" Roy was saying to Brand. "You've really raised this to an art form. Scheherezade's paid out so much more than I ever predicted."

It sounded like code. Brand was reacting like it was code.

"Shut up, Roy." It was about as ineloquent a response as it could be, but Jughead figured it served his purpose of interrupting, and also of letting Roy know that he was on Brand's side of the conflict - whatever that entailed. "Just because you never managed to figure out that Brand was undercover-,"

"I hope the kid doesn't have enough brain damage to actually believe any of that was real. Or else maybe I owe you a whole lot more on that bet." Roy cackled, addressing Brand again. "But then, I guess you got his dog back, and if you can't buy love you might still be able to buy loyalty."

Jughead froze. "What bet? And what do you know about Trigger? Have you been _spying _on us?"

"Who has the time?" Roy was disdainful. "You know, most people have to work for a living. _Most _people can't hitch their wagon to a walking disaster and have it magically land them on the front page of every newspaper and parachute them into a cushy job." Roy's tone became even more sarcastic as he spoke. "So Brand never told you about his bet? A cool four grand that he'd be able to convince you in Riverdale that he was a devoted guardian?"

Brand still seemed to be working on a response, though he looked angrier and more stressed by the moment.

And, even though this was distracting information about events in Riverdale when they'd been living in the trailer - and the amount was exactly what Brand had forked over earlier in the year when they'd discussed his being paid to hold Jughead hostage -, Jughead was suddenly inspired. There might be a way to protect Brand _and _take down Roy if he was clever about it. And very lucky.

Roy had never seemed like the brightest guy; Jughead hoped that his read was correct, and that it was still the case.

Jughead slid to the edge of his bunk so that he could see Roy's expressions more clearly, and he chose his words carefully: "You did, didn't you? You spied on us. Well, I hope you were nothing but embarrassed by how well Brand fooled you."

"Me? Embarrassed? What about the ways he fooled you?" Roy was clearly incensed that Jughead was pushing back. Apparently Brand was not the only one in the cell who was susceptible to goading.

Jughead was suddenly pulled off balance when Brand yanked on his dangling left leg in an obvious attempt to get him to shut up and stop antagonizing their cellmate. Jughead ignored him.

"That FBI agent came to _me_." Roy raised his voice still further. "You, on the other hand, kept running back to this guy even when every day involved a new discussion of whether or not to shoot you and dump your body. How's that for being a loving 'godfather,' eh?"

Jughead frowned when he felt Brand's hand abruptly drop from his leg as if he'd been scalded by Roy's words.

"_Leave Jones alone_. None of what you're upset about is because of him, so leave him out of it," Brand finally addressed his former partner. He seemed not to know what to say after that, and Jughead took the opportunity to kick him in the shoulder, hard, hoping that would keep him from saying more. Brand leaned forward to look up at him. "Seriously, kid?"

Jughead shook his head at Brand, hoping that would be enough to signal him to butt out of the conversation.

"Brand was never going to kill me, you idiot. He was just stringing you along for the case." Jughead made his voice smug; that should irritate Roy. Then he tried a gamble: "So was the FBI agent."

Roy laughed loudly. "Oh, really? How exactly does that little narrative fit with the fact that I'm the one who tipped Brand off about your dog? Or the fact that Brand let that insane FBI agent come within spitting distance of carting away your lifeless body? Or maybe you mean when that same FBI agent was shot in cold blood? Huh?"

Whoa.

That was a _lot _more pay dirt than Jughead had expected; everything to do with the drugging had been kept quiet in the press, and the case against Bryn Carter had kept the details under wraps for legal reasons - even from Alice, as Jughead had later discovered. And the shooting, since it had been an FBI agent taking down his own partner, was about as classified as it got.

If he was in their cell as a narc, then Roy had arranged for some sort of immunity for his crimes. But Jughead was pretty sure there was no way that Roy could have negotiated immunity for any sort of involvement in the death of Agent Russell.

To be certain that he was not interrupted a second time, Jughead kicked Brand in the shoulder again - this time hard enough to leave a bruise.

And, sure enough, Brand slid out of reach on the lower bunk and stopped trying to interfere with the argument. He was obviously disturbed by the altercation, but at this point Brand seemed darkly resigned to it running its course. And Jughead was admittedly shocked to hear that Brand had had contact with Roy about Trigger's disappearance.

But for now Jughead needed to focus: there were bigger fish to fry.

"Seriously, Brand? You _knew_?" Jughead decided to change tacks now that he was pretty sure Brand had gotten the message not to say anything else.

"Oh, that's _nothing _compared to-," Roy must have realized that he'd wandered into dangerous territory because he stopped mid-sentence and his eyes narrowed. "Do you really want to know the score on old Brand here?"

"Sure. Let's hear 'the score,'" Jughead said, allowing his tone to become sarcastic again. "Brand committed to his role one hundred percent and did whatever he needed to do to keep me alive in Riverdale, in Toronto, and then after that when I'd gone home to my dad. But please, enlighten me."

That must have been a little too much, because Roy finally seemed to catch on. "_Hey_. Are you trying to set me up?"

Jughead was disappointed that he hadn't gotten Roy to spill more, but he dove right in and pressed his advantage: "You were a sucker in Riverdale and you're a sucker now."

"I'm telling you, kid, he was planning to off you in Toronto the first chance he got. We talked about it constantly, and only your lucky stars kept it from happening."

"Ohhh, _Scheherezade_. Now I get it." Jughead winced as the allusion clicked for him. "So, what, you were trying to convince Brand to kill me, and he _still _didn't? Great argument, Roy."

That was when Brand perked up and began leaning forward from his bunk with renewed interest in the outcome of the exchange.

"What drugs did you pump into this kid, Brand?" Roy suddenly turned vicious. "Did you know about _that_, Jones?"

"Obviously we had to make it seem real," Jughead retorted. "Did _you _know that Brand checked all of my drug allergies and kept my medical records handy the entire time?"

Brand's hand whipped back up to grab Jughead's ankle again. Okay; maybe he'd better not overdo it on sharing details.

"Only because a dead hostage isn't worth a whole lot." Roy stood up from his mattress and approached the bed. "What about when he invited me over to beat you black and blue? Still no red flags?"

"Oh, yeah. Because training a hostage to successfully fight off two attackers at a time makes _so _much sense." Jughead rolled his eyes as obnoxiously as he could.

"You were nothing but his big gamble for making it in Toronto," Roy bit out angrily. "Don't kid yourself - that was never about equipping you to protect yourself. Brand only wanted you to be his secret weapon."

"If that was his goal, then great. Mission accomplished." Jughead folded his arms and glared down at Roy. "So, tell me. Where exactly were you when everything went down in Michigan? Were you somewhere nearby so you could watch, or did you stay out of the way to avoid being implicated?"

"What are you talking abou-," Roy's eyes had gone wide with panic.

"Aha - so this isn't part of your snitch immunity deal; that's what I figured. And yet somehow you know that I was drugged, and that was never made public. Were you there when Agent Russell was shot, too? You said yourself that you tipped Brand off about Trigger, and that means you had insider information. So... where were you that week?" Jughead smirked confidently. "You do have an airtight alibi, don't you? You wouldn't have tipped your hand on all of this without one, right?"

Roy began to sputter.

Jughead laughed. "Man, this is going to be so much fun to watch play out when the prosecution realizes that their own plant incriminated himself right here in jail - maybe even on camera."

When Roy moved toward Jughead's bunk, cursing and threatening, Brand was up and between them in a heartbeat.

"Go ahead and take a swing, Roy." Brand glared levelly at his former associate, and a slow grin spread across his face. "Hit me and let's see how this ends, once and for all."

"You sold your soul for this. You _have _to have sold your soul. I said it before." Roy didn't back down, but he didn't make another move either. "Eventually this is all going to catch up to you, Brand, and when the chips are called in I just hope I get to see it."

"It's already caught up with him, Roy," Jughead interjected, and this time his smug tone was not feigned. "Brand is officially stuck with me, my dad, and everyone in Riverdale. He brought it on himself, and he's not getting out of those commitments anytime soon."

Brand shrugged agreeably, giving Roy a mock longsuffering look. "The kid's right. It's my cross to bear."

Guards appeared outside of their cell.

"Subtlety is not the strong suit of the prosecution, I take it?" Brand asked the guards as they opened the door and escorted Roy out of the cell. "I hope they have a blast sorting all of that out. Idiots."

"You can tell them to feel free to send us more criminals so that we can solve more crimes," Jughead called after them with a laugh.

Brand tapped the bottom of Jughead's shoe. "What are you saying? Never offer to work for free."

Jughead reached down to offer Brand a high five.

"Oh my God, kid. This is in no way a high five moment." Brand batted his hand away. "However, the fact that you think it is had better serve as proof positive to anyone watching us that you are underage. Honestly. I take it your dad told you about Clark's ridiculous plan to infiltrate the jail and you put that together with Roy showing up?"

Jughead grinned and reached to tousle Brand's hair. "You're just jealous that I made the bust this time. I was a full-on armchair detective."

"Shut up." Brand grabbed Jughead's hand, disentangled it from his hair, and gave it a quick slap. "There. You got your high five. Now stop gloating."

"Never. That may have been my finest hour." Jughead slid backwards to the center of his bunk and then stretched out luxuriously on the mattress. "The FBI's going to want to give me a raise. And an office."

Brand sighed, but before he returned to his bunk he reached over to ruffle Jughead's hair, both in retaliation and affection. "Maybe so, kid. Gloating is a terrible habit, but that wasn't actually half bad. It was maybe even a little impressive."

Jughead grinned again. "I know. After all, I learned from the best."

Brand settled onto his bunk before Jughead spoke again, more seriously: "And, just for the record, we are definitely talking about this later."

Yeah. Brand figured he'd better prepare to attend some of those therapy appointments with the kid, too. "I know. But for what it's worth, I'm pretty sure there isn't anything more waiting to come out of the woodwork."

"Not unless you were getting up _really_ early in the morning," Jughead said wryly.

Brand knocked a fist against the bottom of Jughead's bunk. "Even I don't have an unlimited capacity for screwing things up."

When Jughead laughed, Brand shook his head in amazement. Apparently they were just going to keep weathering disaster after disaster. There might actually be an end in sight for what had previously seemed to be a bottomless pit of deception.

"Thanks, kid." It bore saying out loud.

"Thanks for not killing me and dumping my body," Jughead replied, a smirk audible in his voice.

"It was the least I could do." Brand smirked as well.

"Hand me my SAT book?" Jughead reached down expectantly. "Dad's annoyed that he had to buy it, so I have to make good or we'll both be in trouble."

Brand shook his head in amazement a second time. "You got it. Or... you know, you can take a break from studying."

"The SATs wait for no man," Jughead intoned. "And seriously, Dad wants to see some good scores."

"Okay." Brand decided not to call attention to the fact that the kid should be a lot more thrown by what had just occurred. If he was feeling no pain, so much the better. "Let me know if you want any help."

"Will do." Jughead fell silent as he resumed studying.

Brand was silent as well, lost in thoughtful reflection.

**00000**

"We've got a pretty full van, but there's room for at least one more," Fred told Mary. "You're sure that you can safely get away for the concert?"

"I'm not missing it," Mary Andrews said fervently. "Archie's put up with so much and accomplished so many things this year, and it's been... I've hated being so far away for so much of it."

Fred regarded her silently for a few long moments. "We've hated having you far away too. Some of the best silver linings from this past year have been a direct result of your being around."

"I have my uses as a lawyer," Mary laughed lightly, avoiding eye contact, "and I was happy to help out. It looks like FP has finally found his feet, and it's almost a form of closure to get to be a small part of that after seeing him and Jughead founder for so many years."

"Actually... I mean that it's been nice that it was _you_ who helped out," Fred said quietly. He moved slowly but confidently into Mary's personal space and tipped his head so that he could force eye contact.

When Mary looked up to meet his eyes, there was a small, nervous smile playing over her face.

"Will you go to the concert with me, Mary?" Fred repeated the invitation, this time with a slight teasing lilt in his voice.

"Yes. I think I will go with you, Fred Andrews." Mary's smile broadened, though her expression did not lose its nervous tinge.

"Good enough." Fred nodded and took a step back to a more comfortable distance and he gazed at Mary again. "That's... good enough for now."

"Okay," Mary said quietly. "Then I'll meet you at the van when it's time to go."

"It's a date." Fred made his tone light as he turned to leave her alone to work. He exhaled slowly as he exited the room, and a slow, hopeful grin spread across his face as he made his way down the hallway to check in with the other folks who had asked about attending the concert.

**00000**

"So they're out for Brandon's blood?" FP was amused by the report he was being given of the prosecution's dismal failure with the plant they'd attempted to use in Jughead and Davies' cell.

"Not at all. I hear that the take-down was all Forsythe - I mean, Jughead - and it was very impressively done," SAC Wilson said. "The prosecution is trying to claim that suggests maturity, and thus age, but if that isn't the weakest possible argument-,"

"No kidding? Jug's the one who handed their guy his butt?" FP grinned. "I've been trying to teach him not to put up with abuse. I can't take much credit for his brains or his character, but... I don't know. It's real nice to hear that he fought back."

"Oh, the plant is facing criminal prosecution. Jughead didn't just fight back; he destroyed the guy. Whatever he'd admitted to and wanted immunity for in exchange for trying to trap Davies, Jughead did him one better. He uncovered something the plant hadn't planned to share." SAC Wilson's smile widened. "And apparently, if the guards are to be believed, your son's parting shot was that they should try the ploy again so that he could do more detective work."

FP leaned back on the couch with a deeply satisfied expression. "That's my boy."

"We have a lot of traction now, and I feel pretty safe in saying that if we don't have results tomorrow, it will be no later than the following day." Wilson stood up and stretched wearily. "So we can all go home soon."

"That sounds great," FP replied. "Are you in on the carpool they're setting up for the concert? I'm not willing to venture that far from the jail, but I think most everyone else is planning to see Red perform tonight with his band."

"I've been asked," Wilson gave FP a wryly amused look, "but no; I won't be crashing that party. Do you want some company? I'll buy dinner."

"I won't say no to that."

"Great. You can tell me more about Jughead. I'd like to hear about his college plans, and maybe we can discuss some of what I've been thinking about for your role over the next several months."

"You're not ready to get rid of me just yet, then?" This was news to FP, but he found that he was not surprised. Wilson had consistently acted as though this was the inevitable outcome of his probationary period.

"Not just yet." Wilson tipped her chin up in a gesture of acknowledgement. "Keep up the good work and we'll have no choice but to keep paying you."

"I can live with that." FP smiled, and then he chuckled as he reflected once again on the events of the day. "Jughead must be in rare form. Doesn't that just take the cake."

"It really does," Wilson agreed. "He is something else. You must be very proud."

FP nodded. "Unbelievably. He's better than I ever deserved. The FBI had better appreciate that I'm willing to share him."

"Oh, we do." Wilson smiled again, and the warm expression lingered as she studied FP. He caught the look and ran a hand self-consciously over his growing beard; shaving had not been a priority for a few days.

"So. What do you want for dinner?" Wilson pulled out her phone. "You can go wild; I'm not planning to expense it, so there won't be any government oversight of what we order."

"I'm sober," FP reminded her. "That's all the oversight's really looking for, isn't it?"

"They're also looking for flagrantly decadent meals." Aaditi Wilson raised her eyebrows significantly. "I hear that Claudio Aprile's doing good work at his new restaurant."

"Never heard of him." FP frowned. "Is he the type to do takeout?"

"Nope. But we'll swing it." Wilson looked down as she began typing on her phone. "I can arrange for a courier to pick it up. You've earned it."

"No I haven't. But I'll take it." FP's expression was increasingly curious as he watched Wilson making arrangements for what promised to be quite the noteworthy meal. "Thanks."

"Thank you for giving me the pleasure of your company." Aaditi smiled up from her phone. Once again her gaze lingered before she resumed typing.

FP's expression was still bemused as he stroked his beard again - only this time the gesture was a whole lot less self-conscious.

**00000**

**Thank you not only for reading, but also for your patience. I've really got to stop making predictions, since without a prediction I can't fail at meeting a goal, right? :-D (good logic for the win!) **

**I'll greatly enjoy hearing your thoughts on this brief chapter, and even if it takes a little longer than anticipated, I'm really, really looking forward to rounding off the series with an actual conclusion. :) (okay, truer statement - there is no guarantee that I won't crack and return after a few months' hiatus with a further adventure, since I have proven myself sorely limited on self-control and I might just need a Word document to get me through the next round of health stuff, but there will be no reopening of these finally-capped cans of worms!)**

**I hope you're having a lovely weekend!**

**-Button**


	30. Chapter 30

**Okay, deep breath... here goes!**

**Also, unrelated, allow me to share my happy whiplash from the last two weeks: my health stuff received a major downgrade to "yeah, something's wrong, but the worst case scenario diagnosis we gave you has unexpectedly been ruled out after all." The OR is still potentially in the mix, but way less of it, and possibly not at all. I'm reeling (just a bit!), but in all of the best ways. :)**

**Skyrider45, thank you for the great review! The detective stuff was fun to start working in, and I have wanted Fred and Mary to have more since the beginning. It's taken a long time, but is much deserved for those two. FP and Wilson has been in the back of my mind, but I am not sure what it would look like. I see potential for so much magic, but there are a million barriers there... :-D Yay for potentially a chapter from you, and so much yes to sticking around in the background! Thank you a million times over for all of your reviews and support - this story would not be the same without your feedback and solidarity along the way!**

**Living Lucid Dream, you have been so amazing. Thank you so much for every review, and for all of the incredible encouragement - and especially the blow-by-blow reactions I have loved so much. I've had so many new visions, angles, and insights for this series either from your feedback itself or less directly from the process of thinking through your reactions, and it has added more dynamics to this story than I probably even know - and contributed mightily to my writing process more generally. You gave me such a gift when you began reviewing BCBC, and so many gifts since then. I sincerely hope this final chapter lives up to expectations, and if there is another sequel (with new direction for the characters) in a number of months, I'll be looking for you and hoping that you enjoy it as well.**

**Guest, it's been such a pleasure hearing about your enjoyment of the story as it has unfolded! I am so glad you've jumped in with notes as the series concludes, and that you've so generously shared your reactions along the way. Every review has made me smile, and given me motivation to write more - and hopefully also better.**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

The crowd was enormous. The sound was overwhelming.

Fred was glad that he'd had the presence of mind to grab ear plugs for himself and for Mary. Being backstage was quite the experience, but it meant that they had limited options for putting distance between themselves and the massive array of speakers.

"So how long has he been writing songs?" The guitarist motioned to where Archie was performing. "He's got some chops. His sound's a little tame for me personally, but I'd be happy to have them open for our whole tour."

The headlining band was curious about their openers, and apparently it was obvious that Fred and Mary were Archie's parents.

"He's been writing music for a number of years," Fred replied. He wasn't sure how much would be politic to share without Archie's input, but that was a true answer without being a specific one. "And that's a high compliment; Archie will appreciate hearing it."

"I think the crowd agrees with you," Mary added. They did seem appreciative, and it looked like the band might even have some fans of their own in the crowd based on some of the T-shirts they had spotted.

"This is a tough one, too, so I'm doubly impressed that they're going over so well." The guitarist motioned toward the far side of the stage. "You see that group over there? We can draw something of a rough crowd, but to have a notorious biker gang show up in leathers makes this a red letter day even for us."

Fred looked over, and then hid his shocked expression when he instantly recognized those leathers. "Uh. You don't say."

"They seem into these guys, though. Like I said, it's impressive." The guitarist waved to his group's drummer, who walked over to join the conversation. The guitarist pointed to Gunnar. "How do you like that kid?"

The drummer grinned. "He can sit in with me anytime."

Fred thought that Archie was doing a fantastic job working the crowd and that he sounded amazing, and he was also impressed by Veronica's vocals and the way she played off of Archie's energy while they sang together.

Gunnar, however, seemed absolutely transported behind his drum kit. Fred knew that he'd been given a lot of freedom to improvise, and Archie looked nothing but thrilled by how Gunnar was rising to the occasion tonight - and it was exhilarating to see the teenager bringing a dramatic combination of athleticism and focus to his drumming.

Anyone who had hoped for something extra in the live performance was certainly getting their money's worth.

"This is their last song, right?" Mary asked. "They're performing three tonight?"

"Four." The guitarist responded before Fred had a chance to confirm that Mary was correct. "They've got one more."

"Really? They do?" Fred looked back and forth between the guitarist and Archie, as if he might see something in his son's body language to indicate whether they were about to have a fairly significant hiccup in the concert.

Being a whole song short would no doubt leave the next band scrambling, and Fred was suddenly very nervous for his son. He'd be terribly embarrassed over making such an amateur mistake in his first major concert appearance.

However, in spite of Fred's concerns, when Archie, Veronica, and Gunnar crashed to the end of the up-tempo song they'd been playing, they congregated by the drums while Alice and Sweet Pea ran out onto the stage to join them

They were both wearing and carrying Serpents jackets.

And then Alice and Sweet Pea retreated from the stage, and Archie was holding up his jacket to show the crowd while the other two band members slipped into theirs - and Fred was only more surprised to hear Archie begin to shout into the audience about liberty, something about cages... and the shocking announcement that they were debuting a brand-new song.

"Fred? Did you know anything about this?" Mary was aghast and clutching Fred's arm with a vise-like grip.

"Not a clue." Fred felt like his jaw was about to hit the floor.

Archie looked entirely self-possessed, though, and the remainder of the headlining band joined Fred and Mary at the side of the stage to enjoy the delighted roar of a crowd that had just realized that they were being treated to a very special live event.

That roar expanded and took on a life of its own when the screen above the teens came to life, no longer with large projections of them playing onstage (as it had shown up until now), but now with a video splicing scenes of the band playing in Alice's Toronto home and what appeared to be an immensely violent - and one-sided - fight between FP Jones and several men. All of the faces were blurred, but there was no question (in Fred's mind at least) that it was FP.

And there was quite obviously no question in the minds of the Serpents, either; that entire side of the venue was erupting in violent shouts of exultation.

Gunnar signaled Archie and they began to play again, but this time it was a much faster song that was far darker in tone than anything Fred had heard from Archie before.

No sooner had that thought entered Fred's mind than Gunnar leaned into his microphone to yell some lyrics that were loud, angry, and entirely incomprehensible.

"What is he singing?" Mary yelled to Fred, gesturing to Gunnar. Fred shrugged helplessly.

A few bars later, the footage cut to the band again - and then to non-blurred footage of Jughead attacking someone as he dropped from rafters.

"Is that man holding a _knife_?" Mary was still yelling. "What is this song? And how on earth did they come up with _this _for their - what is this, a music video? And they must have planned this a while ago if Jughead and FP helped them out. That means-,"

And then, when the camera focused on someone duct taped to a support pole, Fred realized what it was that they were seeing. He cupped his hands to direct his voice as he shouted back. "Mary, this is from the amusement park. This is the video that Betty shot."

Suddenly the video brightened and Brand filled the screen, inaudibly barking orders while he held everyone at gunpoint and took control of the situation.

All he was missing was a white hat.

Fred and Mary turned to each other, but they quickly looked back up when the roar from the Serpents became frenzied once again: FP was back on the screen, and it looked like he was doing serious damage to several men.

"Can you make out any of the lyrics?" Mary shouted to Fred.

"Something about Brandon, I think," Fred shouted back. "It sounds like they're singing about him... clearing Toronto of crime?"

"But if it's footage of-,"

"I know! I'm as lost as you are," Fred replied. "And the crowd seems a lot more excited about FP taking apart those guys than anything to do with Brand."

"No kidding. At least FP's face is blurred. Why on earth isn't Jughead's?" Mary was shaking her head and had an expression of utter horror on her face. "Archie is grounded. For life. He's grounded from performing, from songwriting, from taking video-,"

"Oh yeah. He's grounded all right."

They lapsed into silence. Eventually Fred found himself staring up at footage of Jughead and Brand releasing a blurred out Clark, which then cut to a shot of the band one last time as the song finally concluded.

"They're in jail and they need your help!" Archie shouted into his microphone, this time much more intelligibly. "We've released this new single online, simultaneous with the world premiere performance that you were just a part of. Check it out, including links showing how you can stand with Special Agent Brandon Davies and his partner Jughead Jones in their fight against crime and against international forces of government corruption!"

Veronica and Gunnar joined Archie at the front of the stage and they joined hands and thrust them in the air as they shouted together: "_Thank you, Toronto_!"

The band ran offstage while the crowd cheered and the Serpents bellowed their approval, and Fred did not think it was an accident when their exit did not take them past him and Mary.

"Did Archie just say-,"

"I have no idea what just happened, Mary, but we'd better get them out of here and then have a long talk. And find out exactly what was in those lyrics. Not to mention what they just uploaded to the internet."

Fred felt his adrenaline spiking as he turned to usher Mary further backstage while the next performers moved past them to take the stage.

So much for this being a date.

**00000**

"Are you going to pull the plug on this website?" FP asked, scrolling on his phone and glowering at the rapidly increasing dollar amount on the screen. "The FBI can do that, right?"

"I'm not going to do that right at this moment, but I am sorely tempted." Aaditi's expression matched FP's. "How did they get a 501(c)(3) to take on Brandon Davies as a charity on such short notice? This is preposterous; there are people _worldwide _voluntarily paying hundreds of dollars to download the single in the name of donating to the 'cause.' This actually looks quite a bit like a massive tax dodge, except my guess is that the band doesn't have significant revenue to speak of."

"That works?" FP was surprised. "People can do that?"

"They donated the song's proceeds to a charity. That's the long and short of it in the eyes of the IRS." Wilson shrugged. "Have you finished watching the music video yet? Is all of the footage of you blurred?"

"I think so. Yes. None of the footage of Jughead or Davies is, though," FP reported. "This is a disaster."

"There was already quite a bit of footage of them in circulation, so I'm not nearly as worried about that," SAC Wilson admitted. "However, I am having a hard time believing that Betty Cooper would do this without being coerced in some way. She really doesn't seem the type."

"She loves my son." FP sounded less perturbed about that detail. "I can't be too upset with her over that. I've come to expect quite a bit from her, and to be perfectly honest we see eye to eye a lot more these days than we did when Jug was missing."

Wilson gave FP a confused look for just a moment before it cleared. "Oh. Yes. When he was with Davies. I know the case well, but I hadn't given a lot of thought to the fact that you were left behind during all of that. Obviously."

"I went from receiving threatening photos of him to thinking he was dead, and then knowing - being the only one who understood - that Brandon had to have taken him."

FP didn't talk about this. He never talked about this. But when he looked up from his phone to make eye contact with Aaditi and take in her expectant expression, he felt compelled to continue explaining:

"It was a waking nightmare, and getting him back didn't change that right away. Jughead was always one of the few people I couldn't control with a word or a look. It was demoralizing how well he knew me and saw through me."

FP didn't quite smile, but his expression lightened when his eyes returned to the paused music video which displayed Jughead looking up at Brand with concern while the two of them worked together to cut Clark free.

"That's what saved us in the end, though. When I put in the effort to change, he could tell that it was real. Jughead knew I wasn't capable of lying that well. After that we just had to get past the anger."

"Which isn't a tall order or anything," Wilson observed wryly. She was watching FP closely as he spoke.

"Exactly. That's the part where Brandon actually brought him home to me." FP flipped idly between open pages on his web browser, returning to the counter of donations that continued to climb well past any dollar figure that made sense. "And I don't mean from Toronto. Jug had left me long before that, and Brandon only brought him fully back to me once he'd come to live with us in Riverdale. I hated Davies for being the one who could do it."

"And now that Jughead's back, safe and sound, you can't remember why you ever hated Davies?"

"Uh, not exactly. Have you _met _Brandon?" FP barked out a laugh. "He reminds me constantly of why I hated him. We rub each other the wrong way, which sounds stupid in the grand scheme of things but made it nearly impossible for me to forgive him."

"So… I guess the made-for-TV film will be grittier than usual?" SAC Wilson shot FP a teasing look.

"Not to mention pettier. We're in a fairly good place now; it's just that it was never going to be simple for the wolf pack."

"The _what_?"

"Oh God, now he's got me saying it without thinking." FP massaged his forehead as if he'd instantaneously developed a headache. "That's what Brandon calls the three of us."

Aaditi laughed. "You know, I have a grown daughter. She and I have been having a tense time since she graduated from college, for a number of reasons. Her current boyfriend is no prize, but he's been encouraging her to reconnect with me - and I've resented him for it without really thinking about how backward that impulse is."

"Huh." FP was thoughtful for a few moments. "Do me a favor."

"Sure."

"If you ever lose a limb and I visit you in the hospital," FP locked eyes with Wilson and his expression and tone were deeply sincere, "I want you to remind me to tell you all about this paper cut I once had. Because I really think we're going to bond."

Aaditi's eyes went wide with horror. "I was only-,"

"I know. And my therapist tells me not to say things like that when people try to relate," FP interrupted with an apologetic grimace, "but then I just resent people when they keep on doing it. I know that you're trying to understand, and I want to hear about your daughter; I do. I just - every once in a while - need to say out loud that Jughead had it worse."

"And... you need to say that in a way that pulls the rug out from under the conversation?" Wilson asked dryly. "For emphasis?"

"Precisely." FP nodded and began to smile. "Now you're getting it."

"All right. If I lose a limb, I'll remind you," Aaditi said. She fell silent for a few long seconds, and then continued: "I don't mind the hubris, by the way. It suits you. I'd recommend you not try that line on anyone else, though, or else you'll find out real quickly that you don't want to turn suffering into a competition."

"Hubris, huh? Duly noted." FP sized Wilson up yet again, with respect, as he lapsed into thoughtful silence - before a distracting question occurred to him. "So, is Davies actually going to get all of this money?"

SAC Wilson sighed as she looked down at her own laptop and noted the growing figure. "He might."

"Gre-eat." FP sighed as well. "He's going to be insufferable."

"I'm not so sure." Wilson shrugged when FP looked at her questioningly. "A lot has happened, FP. The situation is different now."

FP considered that. Maybe she was right.

"And if all else fails, just break out the paper cut story. That'll set him straight."

Aaditi grinned when FP laughed.

**00000**

Archie had pulled out every trick he knew to buy the band overnight - some time, space, and sleep - before this conversation, knowing that would almost certainly cool tempers.

It had only partially worked: it was now morning and the band had been separated into three rooms for separate lectures with his parents. It was Archie's turn, and his dad was apparently tackling this conversation solo.

The part that had clearly not worked was that his father seemed (if humanly possible) even more upset than he'd been the night before.

"So. I've gathered so far that a lot of this was Gunnar's idea. He's proud of what you've done, including the fact that your album is climbing the charts awfully quickly along with that 'single' you've got racking up donations for Brand."

"Um." Archie knew that it was a bad idea, but he had to ask: "If you know it was Gunnar's idea, and it's working to help Jughead and Brand with public support and legal expenses, then why-,"

"Why am I upset with you?" Fred's tone was dry. "Aside from the fact that it is your band, and you are responsible for the decisions made on its behalf? Well, it might have to do with the fact that I'm planning to send Betty over to meet Jughead while I'm stuck here, lecturing you. I would really have liked to be with FP to support everyone today, Archie."

Archie blanched under his father's gaze, but then looked hopeful. "Do you mean that they're out? Really? Is it because of our concert? When can we go over? I won't try anything like this ever again - I promise. This lecture is basically unnecessary."

"They are _not _out because of the concert. That was already going to happen because of their actual legal defense - which, for the record, came in under budget and requires no donations whatsoever."

Fred gave Archie a very serious look. "And we can't go over right now because we have a lot of issues that need to be addressed before we can go meet up with anyone. So far your mother doesn't think you've done anything that is actually illegal, and it's a good thing that you never claimed that donations to Brand were going solely to his legal defense, but I am not so sure that you're going to be in the clear as she looks more closely at the details of the single and your online collection racket."

Archie started to get nervous when he heard that. Gunnar had seemed awfully confident that bands did this sort of thing regularly, but Archie had admittedly let him do all of the work of setting it up.

"We have reporters arriving on the lawn of Alice's house-," Fred's eyes narrowed when Archie shot an excited look toward the windows, all of which had the curtains pulled tightly closed, "-which is not helpful in the slightest. I will not subject Jughead and FP to more intrusive media, so we either shake this or we don't see them while we're all in Toronto."

"Oh." Archie's voice was small.

"Yeah. 'Oh.'"

"Betty might have ideas for dealing with the reporters," Archie offered lamely. "She's the media consultant for the band."

That did not seem to go over any better than anything else Archie had said or done over the last twelve hours.

"I'm not going to hold my breath. But I guess we can ask her for ideas before she goes." Mr. Andrews ran a hand through his hair.

At least his dad seemed willing to hear what Betty could come up with. Archie hoped against hope that she would come up with something.

**00000**

They were out of jail. Finally. It had actually happened really quickly once the decision was made, so nobody was waiting when Jughead led Brand out of the cell block. They'd been given a ride to a residential house that the FBI had rented for their temporary use.

Brand was immediately pulled away to be interviewed by the FBI, but Jughead had been pointed toward where his dad was waiting in the FBI's makeshift headquarters and he swiftly wound his way through the maze of hallways in the aging building.

However, before he had a chance to locate FP, Jughead found himself being motioned into a small room by an older couple.

They looked friendly. They seemed to know him, too, so he stepped in to find out what the deal was.

"Are you... Jughead?" The man asked, and the woman was suddenly wringing her hands nervously.

"Yes, I am. Hi; do I know you?" Jughead asked politely.

"You don't, honey." The woman looked near tears now. "But... we're your grandparents."

Jughead's jaw dropped. "Oh! Uh, it's - it's nice to meet you. I didn't know-,"

"We didn't know either. We'd have come sooner. So much sooner." The man - Jughead's grandfather - said with an agonized look. "We understand the circumstances. We know that you've grown up with your father. So we don't want to say anything against him, but... had we known, we could have been more involved. We _would _have been involved."

"And we'd like to be involved now," Jughead's grandmother said firmly.

"Jug?" FP's voice rang out anxiously in the hallway. "Jughead?"

"I'm in here, Dad. With my, uh, grandparents? Who you never told me about?" Jughead turned to greet his father with a host of questions on the tip of his tongue.

"With _who_? What do you mean? What is all this?" FP burst into the room and stared at the couple as he pulled Jughead into a protective embrace that felt more crushing than affectionate. "Who are you, and what are you telling my boy?"

"You must be Brandon's partner." The man held out a hand for FP to shake. FP ignored it.

"The FBI doesn't consider us partners. Or... did Clark put you up to this?" FP sighed heavily. "He has way too much time on his hands if he-,"

"_Oh_." Jughead slapped his forehead. "No, wait, sorry. Are you _Brand's _parents? I thought you meant that you were-,"

"Yes, Jughead, exactly. We're so glad to finally meet you both. Brandon never told us that he had a son. We saw a lot of the coverage in the spring, of course." The woman turned to address FP. "But we never dreamed that Jughead was his."

She beamed when she faced Jughead once more. "Well, as you can imagine, we'd like to help out as much as we can, now that we know. Brandon is…" Mrs. Davies trailed off, clearly at a loss.

"Yeah. He certainly is," FP agreed with the unspoken sentiment. "But, uh, Jughead _isn't_. That is, he's _my _son. Not Brandon's."

"Oh! Oh goodness. I guess the newspapers really have gotten it wrong." The man shook his head as if to clear it. "Well. The biological relationship really doesn't make a difference to us. We still regard Jughead as our grandchild, and we'd like to get to know him. Maybe even talk about having him to stay with us during a school vacation, if that's all right with you? You're welcome to come too, of course, and Brandon if he's willing. We've got plenty of room."

"Has Brandon told you about the ranch, sweetheart?" The lady smiled warmly as she addressed Jughead again. "It's a great place for young folks to get out in the sunshine, and we wouldn't even put you to work. Unless you decided that you wanted to try out ranch work, of course."

"It's a way of life," The man added, as if this was a common topic of conversation with him. "You could see how you like it and then decide if you wanted to make it a working vacation or just relax and have some fun."

FP wasn't entirely sure what to make of the slow grin and incredulous glee spreading across Jughead's face, but he figured that he might as well let Brandon do the work of sorting this out instead of trying to wade through the misinformation himself. "We'll have to see."

"Wait. Hang on. You're the parents from the _story_. With the _horses_." Jughead nodded to himself, even though everyone else in the room stared at him in confusion. "Wow. You know, I think Brand might just be up for a visit."

"He still goes by that?" Brand's father looked amused and nostalgic. "That is a _very _old nickname. It's nice to hear it again."

This time Jughead exchanged glances with his father, who was giving him a surprised look as well.

"I have _so _many questions for you," Jughead declared.

"For later," FP headed his son off. "We've got a lot to do today. But yeah... I might just have a few questions myself. It's, uh, nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Davies."

"You shouldn't feel any pressure to call us Mom and Dad, but you are perfectly welcome to do so if you like," Brand's mother offered to FP.

"Ohhh, boy." FP made a face. "You seem really nice, but I'm just - I mean, Brandon's my son's godfather. And not even legally. That's the extent of our relationship." FP tried to soften any disappointment that might represent for the couple.

"Oh goodness; we thought he lived with you. Those newspapers really did get it all wrong, didn't they?" Brand's father shook his head as he absorbed this new information.

"Well, no. Brand does live with us." Jughead attempted to explain. "He's been looking for a place, though, and-,"

"Ah, you broke up? Is Jughead going to be - I mean, are you and Brandon going to work out a custody-,"

"Again, he's _my _son. Not Brandon's," FP repeated, giving Jughead a quelling look in response to his son's obvious amusement over the conversation.

"Well. We'll see about that." Suddenly Brand's parents seemed defensive and protective, and Mrs. Davies spoke carefully. "That may be up to the courts to-,"

"Come on, Jug," FP said, grabbing Jughead's arm and tugging him toward the door. "We can sort this out later."

"Dad, it's always better to decide these things based on the best interests of-,"

"_Jughead_."

"Right behind you, Dad." Jughead grinned and waved to Brand's parents as he followed his father from the room. "I'll see you later. It's really great to meet you."

Jughead hesitated for a moment, though, pulling FP to a stop as something occurred to him. "Uh, wait - one more thing. Brand sort of implied that you might be foster parents. Is that true?"

"He's our biological son, if that's what you're asking." Mr. Davies looked puzzled. "We have fostered, though, yes. He mentioned that? It was after he moved out."

"Jughead, you are not a social worker. Let's go." FP began tugging his arm again.

"Wait, what is it?" Mrs. Davies was intrigued. "Is there more that we don't know about Brandon?"

FP and Jughead exchanged glances and couldn't help but laugh.

"My guess is that there's a lot more that you don't know about him. But in this case I think Jug wants you to meet a friend of ours named Max, who's going to need a place to stay real soon." FP decided to just dive into the conversation that Jughead had begun. "No relation to Brandon."

"Oh. I don't know." Mrs. Davies was immediately apologetic. "We're not really equipped to take a baby at the moment-,"

"But that's perfect, because he's a teenager." Jughead was exultant.

FP wasn't going to fill him in right now on why that was very rarely considered 'perfect' in the context of fostering, but he shrugged in acknowledgment of that fact when the Davies couple looked to him in consternation.

"We'll have to see, Jug. Let's go."

"Dad, they even _said _that they came here looking for a teenager, and-,"

"We'll _see_." This time FP dropped a hand to the back of Jughead's neck and hauled him away firmly.

**00000**

"So. Gunnar's officially a rock star." Sweet Pea smirked, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen in Alice's house. "The drummer, no less. That's a thing."

"It's a thing all right," Alice agreed. She was baking oatmeal cookies at Brand's texted request, and following his overly prescriptive instructions - which had randomly included purchasing golden raisins.

"I guess it was nice while it lasted." Sweet Pea's tone was suddenly guarded. "I mean, I got what I wanted, too. You made a decision."

"Yes," Alice agreed a second time. She didn't look up at him from where she was measuring ingredients into a bowl.

Sweet Pea pushed off of the doorframe and turned to leave the kitchen. But then he hesitated.

"Just, you know, to confirm. To communicate clearly and all that." Sweet Pea frowned nervously as he watched Alice continue to work. "What _did _you decide?"

"That I'll be staying with Hermione and Veronica for at least the next year." Alice looked up then, giving Sweet Pea a meaningful look. "I think it's the wisest course of action. I'm not ready to be on my own, because I'm not entirely sure about my own judgment at this point."

"Huh." Sweet Pea thought that through and his expression darkened. "Hermione hates me."

"Hermione hates the Serpents." This time it was not clear if Alice was in agreement with Sweet Pea or if she was correcting him.

Although Sweet Pea wasn't sure how that could be a correction. But her tone had kind of made it seem like one.

"So... she'll warn you about the dangers of dating me."

"Hopefully. I'm kind of counting on that." Alice nodded. "It's a big part of why I'm planning to stay there for now."

"Okay. Wow." Sweet Pea turned to leave the kitchen for real this time. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Only because I don't trust myself when it comes to you. And if I'm going to date you, I'm gonna need a second - and maybe a third - set of eyes on my decisions. At least for a little while." Alice spoke hurriedly this time, to stop Sweet Pea's retreat. "If I moved out on my own, I'd have to date Gunnar. Because he's great, you know, and I can trust myself to make better decisions with him. I can probably even trust him to make better decisions than you do. Safer ones."

Sweet Pea's eyes widened with shock.

He didn't want to say anything at all that might change Alice's mind, but he also thought that last comment was more of a compliment to Sweet Pea than to Gunnar. Honestly, Gunnar could be kind of a grind in his quest for stability in life.

Then Sweet Pea fully processed what Alice was saying, and he immediately stopped thinking about Gunnar. "Wait. Are you serious?"

"Are you still interested?" Alice didn't seem to harbor any doubt that he was, but it was still kind of nice of her to pretend that she didn't just assume that Sweet Pea was waiting around.

It also provided a great opening for Sweet Pea to walk over, take the measuring cup from her hand, and set it on the counter. He leaned down.

Alice had her arms around his shoulders and was kissing him enthusiastically before Sweet Pea was entirely sure that jumping straight to this was a wise idea.

Which was, you know, part of his charm. Apparently.

This promised to be complicated, but somehow Sweet Pea was not worried at all. Somehow he was entirely confident that they'd figure it out.

And it was going to be amazing.

**00000**

Jughead was pretty sure that he'd managed to lose FP in the flurry of people pulling them in various directions to make decisions before leaving Toronto.

Which meant they had a very limited amount of time before FP discovered them.

Brand was in the hallway, making sure that they were not discovered or interrupted, though, and Jughead felt pretty good about that as a security measure.

Unfortunately, Max was on high alert for any threat to his master plan.

"Who are _you_?" Max's eyes narrowed dangerously once Jughead had made the introductions.

"We're Brandon's parents," Mr. Davies explained, his expression softening as he took in Max's small frame and defensive posture. "It's very nice to meet you, Max."

Max looked from Mr. Davies to Mrs. Davies. "I just bet. Look, it's like this: I'm going to live with Tim. If you have plans to do _anything _to screw that up for me-,"

What followed was a series of threats so colorful that they were barely matched in creativity by the shockingly offensive language that Max used to express them.

Jughead felt his jaw drop, and was dismayed to hear a loud guffaw of laughter that sounded suspiciously like Brand echo through the hallway behind him.

"Oooookay, Max, we're just going to leave now." Jughead grabbed Max's shoulder and was not entirely surprised when the younger boy jerked it out of his reach and turned his death glare on Jughead next.

"Wait." Mrs. Davies held up a hand. When Max turned to regard her curiously - and silently -, Jughead realized that he was not the only one who was surprised by the older woman's mild tone in the face of invective. "Max, honey, we know that we'd never be your first choice. Or your second choice. You should never have to even think about who you're going to live with. You have every reason to be angry; everything's already gone wrong or else we wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place."

Max folded his arms stubbornly.

"But all the same, we are here. That's the reality, and you don't have a lot of time to get used to it before decisions need to be made," Mr. Davies said, taking over for his wife in the conversation:

"So, do you think that you could use some backup, just in case Tim has an unexpected health issue that keeps him from becoming a foster parent? Or in the event that he just plain isn't granted custody?" Mr. Davies studied Max's expression. "We've got an empty bedroom that would be perfect for a boy your age, and I can think of a couple of horses that would feel real lucky if you'd try working with them."

"Can you believe that people will say stuff like this?" Max's expression was incredulous as he addressed Jughead, suddenly allying himself with the older teen against Brand's parents. "I mean, I guess it makes sense that they'll lie. They raised Brand, and he was in the slammer until, like, a minute ago."

Jughead hesitated. He was tempted to laugh, point out that he'd been in jail right alongside Brand, or to agree with Max that he had a valid point - but none of those responses seemed likely to help the situation.

"We're not lying." Mr. Davies continued to examine Max's expression. "Would you like to see some photos of the ranch?"

"Ohhh, photos. Because those _never _lie. So, what's your game? I can only visit and see the horses if I agree to go live with you?" Max retorted sarcastically. "How much do they pay foster parents, anyway?"

"Max, they're not trying to pull something-," Jughead began to object before Mr. Davies waved reassuringly to stop him and to indicate that he didn't think the backup was necessary.

"That's not it at all, Max. Consider this a standing invitation, no matter what happens. Tim is welcome to come and stay too - any time. We hope that you'll both come, whether he adopts you or he never becomes a foster parent," Mrs. Davies offered.

"That's a fair point about Brandon, too," Mr. Davies said ruefully. "We only started fostering after he moved out as a young adult, and life on the ranch has not been every child's idea of heaven on earth. It certainly wasn't Brandon's. I wish we could have done some things differently with him, but we did our best. You probably know that he's stubborn, and I can tell you that he has always had a mind of his own."

Jughead listened for any further sound from the hallway, but there was only silence. Maybe Brand had left.

"Anyway, we're not trying to use the ranch as a bribe, and we certainly won't rescind our invitation if you're not placed with us, Max," Mr. Davies said. "We just wanted to say hi while we're all in Toronto so that we aren't total strangers; and we'll still have that empty bedroom, no matter what happens."

"Roger could visit too?" Max demanded. "Once I'm living with Tim, I mean, if we decide to see the horses?"

"Uh, maybe. Who's Roger?" Mr. Davies asked. "We'll do our best if you want to bring a friend along, sure."

"That's Tim's dog," Jughead supplied quickly. "He's really well trained."

"If he gets along with our dogs, then sure." Mrs. Davies agreed. "I see no reason why he couldn't come along."

"He does great with other dogs." Max spoke with more confidence than Jughead thought he had any basis for, but it was true: Roger was definitely trained not to be aggressive with other animals. "We'll come and visit after I'm settled in. Could I go over Christmas break, or do you have to take the winters off?"

Jughead raised his eyebrows at Max's confidence that he could call these kinds of shots with Tim.

"The horses wouldn't like having winters off." Mrs. Davies smiled gently. "We might not want to make firm plans just yet, though-,"

"I could come before Christmas Eve and stay until New Year's." Max was staring into space, visibly thinking through the logistics. "Maybe longer if I called in sick. Do you have internet? I could keep up with my classes online."

"Uh, ye-es, we have wifi," Mr. Davies seemed surprised by the question, and by Max's immediate plans to set a date - and to cut school. "But-,"

"Let me guess. You don't _really _want me to visit?" Max's tone was suddenly accusing again.

The door to the room opened, startling all four of its occupants.

"Stop hassling them. They offered; you'll go. It might not be in eight weeks or whatever, but I think you know that nobody's buying a plane ticket today. So scram." Brand motioned for Max to precede him out of the room. "There's lunch waiting in the conference room down the hall, and you need to make your ride to debriefing."

Max gave Brand an arch look and did not move.

"Wow. You must be forgetting that these are my parents and I work for the FBI. Don't mess with me or I'll make sure that you're my little brother by the end of the week," Brand threatened.

Jughead's eyes widened, and he saw both of Brand's parents react with horror over the wildly inappropriate threat.

Max returned Brand's glare but obeyed, moving toward the door of the room while he admonished the Davieses: "Just make sure the horses are up for it. I don't want them to sleep through my whole visit or anything."

"Do you even know what a horse is? They don't _hibernate_." Brand dropped a hand onto Max's shoulder, smirking in spite of his irritation with the small teenager. "Honestly. It could be that I'll have to go with you or my parents will find you feeding them kibble or something."

Jughead perked up. This idea had some potential.

"Yeah, I see that face, kid," Brand said to Jughead. "Why don't you go get some lunch too, and I'll talk to my parents in private."

Jughead smiled hopefully at Brand, and then turned to include Brand's parents in his smile. "Thanks!"

"Yeah, thanks," Max echoed. "I'll make sure that Tim has a tent and some good sleeping bags ready before Christmas break."

"They own a _ranch_. You'll be in a _house_. With wifi, remember?" Brand gave Max a scandalized look before he saw that the boy was hiding a smirk. "Okay, that's enough out of you. Go eat."

Brand dropped a hand on the back of Jughead's neck as he went past to leave the room. "I want you to come back when you're done eating. My parents are... worth getting to know."

Jughead felt his own expression shift to match the surprise that he saw on the Davieses' faces. "Okay. I'll come back. Uh, Dad might want to come too."

"Sure. This is probably a wolf pack conversation." Brand nodded. "Let me explain who you are to them first, and why they'll want to get to know you. We'll go from there."

This time Jughead felt shy when he glanced at Brand's parents. "Okay. I'll eat and find Dad. And then see you all again in a little bit."

Jughead felt nervous as he followed Max down the hallway, but the feeling quickly began morphing into anticipation.

As he entered the room where lunch had been spread out on a table for everyone, Jughead spotted Clark among the FBI personnel who were descending on the food.

"Hey! I heard you were trying to go undercover in our cell." Jughead grinned as he approached his friend. "It would have been great to catch up with you, but actually I got to-,"

"MacGyver! I heard!" Clark welcomed Jughead with a one-armed hug as he balanced both a plate and a water bottle in his other hand. He seemed like he might have had a little too much coffee, and he spoke in an excited rush:

"That was epic; you should have heard everyone when we got word. I mean, talk about punch drunk. We hadn't had much sleep, and Agent Williams was _impressed_. She can be really funny, so remind me to fill you in. You have to tell me everything, too, but we might have to do it over the phone. I have to get to Quantico for training ASAP, and my ride to Riverdale is leaving soon."

"Um… you're becoming a Marine?" Jughead did a double take.

"FBI Academy, Jones. I'm the latest trainee, with major emphasis on the 'late' part," Clark corrected. "Their facilities are located on the base. And it's insane. I honestly don't want to know how many strings were pulled because I am way, _way _out of sequence for the training. SAC Wilson said I'm just going to have to catch up, keep up with my Master's program remotely, and complete the training with honors to show that her faith was not misplaced-,"

"Whoa. She'd better not be holding her breath," Jughead joked, but his eyes were wide as he considered everything that was about to change for Clark - and also what promised to be an impossible schedule. "You only just got your first gun, and shot your first perp."

"They give out honors for academics, too, Jones."

"Ahhh, then maybe you have a chance. But are you planning to sleep ever again?" Jughead grabbed a cookie from the table and took a bite. "Oh man, these oatmeal cookies are amazing."

"Alice made the cookies from Special Agent Davies' recipe. They're good, right? And it's probably a no about sleeping. I'll be back in time for semester break, because that's how little time I have to pull all of this off. I might be washed up by Christmas."

Clark did look a little green around the gills, Jughead realized guiltily - he should stop teasing the older intern.

"You'll pull it off. No question. I can help out by ghost writing your papers for grad school or something," Jughead offered.

Clark gave him a scandalized look. "Yeah, because _that _will get me into everyone's good graces."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Clark's expression softened. "No. Thanks. Just keep in touch and remind me that I only need to be superhuman for a limited time. Oh, and-," Clark leaned in to speak more quietly, "-tell me exactly what happens with Special Agent Davies. The speculation is wild so far. I've heard everything from 'promotion and massive cash influx' to actual _prison_. I'm guessing that Canada's dropping him from payroll, but I have no clue what the FBI's going to do. Personally, I'd throw money at keeping him, but the optics might be-,"

"I'll have to let you know." Jughead felt overwhelmed by the rush of theories about Brand's future. "I don't know what anyone's planning. I really don't think prison is a possibility at this point, though."

"Good." Clark looked relieved. "At least that's something. I want to believe that undercover work comes with some backup and protection, especially now that I'm hiring in and all, but every so often an agency just denies everything and washes their hands of an operative when things get hairy. It's kind of-,"

"Yeah, no. That's not what's happening this time." Jughead was amazed once again by how effectively Clark could fill in the blanks with a cohesive narrative when it came to Brand. It was really impressive. "I don't know the details, but he's planning to come home with me and Dad and still work at the RA for now."

"Oh, fantastic. That's so good to hear," Clark said, and then he gave Jughead a serious look. "Okay. There are a few things that you should know. First, I'm riding to Riverdale with Tim and Max, and he said that we're taking your dogs home with us since we'll have room for three crates. I think your father arranged that, so take it up with him; the dogs are both doing well, and Trigger seems to really like your puppy."

Jughead was relieved to hear that. "Thank you, Clark. I was really worried about the cops mixing with them."

"Yeah, I know. We managed to avoid that completely," Clark assured him. "Second, Agent Williams grabbed copies of all the photos on your SD card and either copied or took everything that was on your phone. I dropped off your stuff with your dad, who's around here somewhere, but all of your data is being looked at."

"It's fine; I figured something like that would happen." Jughead shrugged. "Brand was being all weird about my phone, so I think it's got evidence on it. Thanks for not letting anyone else get into my stuff." Jughead looked around the room at everyone grabbing food and then moving on swiftly, as if they all had pressing work to do. The urgency was palpable; it looked as though everyone wanted to finish up and head home right away. "When do you have to leave?"

"As soon as I finish eating." Clark held up the plate in his hand. "Max needs to get to debriefing, and I already told you how late I am, so we're getting on the road with Tim pretty quickly. I should go check in with Williams and Quinn while I have the chance, too, so plan on a long phone call later this week."

"You got it," Jughead agreed readily. "I want to hear everything about FBI training."

"Whatever I'm cleared to tell you." Clark grinned. "And hey, I'm sure you'll be there yourself before too long."

"Eh, we'll see." Jughead was surprised by the strength of the conviction in Clark's tone. "Maybe. Just remember when you get back that you're not the boss of me. 'Wingmen for life' means that any difference in rank is null and void."

Clark laughed and pulled Jughead into a final hug. "We've got history; I won't forget you when I'm at the top. I won't put you on coffee duty, at the very least."

"As if that is anything but an act of pure self-preservation," Jughead quipped, making Clark laugh again. "Seriously, Clark, knock 'em dead. And if I don't hear from you for a while, I'll understand."

"Thanks, MacGyver. I'll call as soon as I can." Clark patted Jughead on the shoulder and then headed toward Quinn and Williams.

Jughead looked around the room and realized that FP had come in while he and Clark were catching up. He was standing with Max, and had already gotten some lunch while the teen seemed to be examining all of the food options with a critical eye.

"Hey, Dad?" Jughead called across the room to get FP's attention. "Brand wants to talk to us after we eat."

"About your god-grandparents?" FP seemed unsurprised. He took a bite of the sandwich he'd assembled from the supplies on the table and moved to join Jughead. Max followed FP, grabbing a can of caffeinated soda as he did so.

"Yeah. I guess that's what they are." Jughead felt a small smile play across his features that he couldn't quite suppress.

"I figured that was coming. Sure; I guess a couple more folks taking an interest can't hurt." FP appeared to be resigned to the idea. "I don't want to hear anything more about contesting custody, though, or we're out of here."

Max looked up sharply. "Wait. They came here for _you_? Doesn't that just figure."

Jughead caught Max's eye and shrugged. "If you didn't have Tim all lined up…"

The two teens stared at each other for a few beats.

"We'll see," Max finally said, his expression carefully neutral.

"Yeah. We'll see." Jughead let the irrepressible smile widen across his face. "You know... you'd make a good god-uncle."

Max raised an eyebrow at Jughead imperiously. "You should be so lucky."

"Hey. Stop pushing your agenda, Jug." FP leveled a look at his son.

"You want Max to live in Riverdale?" Jughead asked innocently. He was gratified when his father looked powerfully conflicted in response to having that factor pointed out to him: Brand's parents did live far away.

They'd just have to wait and see what happened.

"Did Clark tell you about the deal? For naming your puppy?" Max began carefully stacking individual-sized bags of potato chips on a plate. "I have one."

Agent Quinn had apparently finished talking to Clark; she'd come over to join them and begun assembling a sandwich for herself. She eyed Max's growing pile of potato chips but did not comment. "You came up with a name for the puppy? This is the first I've heard of that."

"Yeah. Clark said that Jughead needed help." Max acknowledged Sarah and then faced Jughead again. "As long as you agree to the terms, I'll let you have the name."

"I have no idea what Clark told you 'the terms' would be," Jughead replied. "They're probably fine, but let's just make sure. What exactly did he agree to?"

"He said that I would get ten percent stake in the puppy, and the right to visit sometimes. Not, like, often." Max suddenly looked unsure of himself when Agent Sarah and FP both reacted visibly - and negatively. "Just... once in a while."

"Sure," Jughead agreed easily, ignoring the unhappy looks that were now directed at him. "What did you come up with?"

"Never."

"As in…?" Jughead made a skeptical face before he schooled his expression.

"Short for 'Never Never.'" Max shrugged casually, though his facial expression was tense. "Take it or leave it. I thought it was good."

"_Oh_." Agent Quinn seemed to regret her involuntary exclamation when all eyes were suddenly on her. "Um. Like we talked about?"

"About not having to be grown up yet, yeah." Max returned his focus to Jughead. "Agent Sarah's all about me being a kid. Clark told me about you being kidnapped too, and about how Trigger didn't really get to be a puppy. But she still has a chance to not grow up too fast. Also, I read that dogs love to hear their names, so it's convenient when people say they've never seen a dog like her. I took her for, like, a hundred walks while you were in jail and literally _everyone _said that."

Jughead raised his eyebrows at Agent Sarah with an amused smile. "Huh. That does sound convenient. And Agent Sarah's been big on me being a kid too."

"The name kind of goes with Trigger's, too, but it's not too matchy," Max continued his pitch.

"I like it." Jughead cocked his head to one side. "Never, huh?"

"Just remember that's _not _her name because I never see her. We have a deal." Max eyed FP and Agent Quinn as he spoke.

"We have a deal," Jughead agreed. He'd probably have to run interference later, since that looked like it might be an uphill battle. "We'll figure it out."

"Good." Max seemed appeased by Jughead's assurances and went back to examining the food spread across the tables.

"Jug?" A female voice cut through the quickly-filling room. Apparently word had gotten out about lunch. "Jughead, you're out?"

"Betty?" Jughead felt his stomach lift as if he was on a roller coaster when he recognized his girlfriend. "You're here!"

It wasn't quite a slow-motion, movie-style reunion when they made their way across the room, but they did crash into each other hard enough to be thrown off balance. Jughead and Betty gripped each other's arms and laughed as they regained their balance.

"You actually released the footage of us rescuing Clark?"

"You busted a criminal right in your cell?"

Betty and Jughead grinned at each other.

"Oh man, we have tons to catch up on. You should meet Max before he leaves, but then I bet we can take lunch somewhere private so that we can talk." Jughead began directing Betty through the room. He leaned in to speak quietly into her ear. "We should be quick, too, before anything else comes up. It's crazy around here."

They joined hands, and Jughead swiftly decided that he could assemble and eat a sandwich with just one hand.

Because he had no intention of letting go for a good long time.

**00000**

"So, what are you planning to do next?" The reporter was practically salivating. This was the question that everyone in the press conference wanted answered.

Betty had been the one who'd pointed out that literally anyone could call a press conference. It had not been difficult after that for Archie to convince his parents that this was the best way to address the media frenzy efficiently; they'd gotten quite a bit of experience with Jughead's press coverage in the spring.

"Well," Archie smiled mysteriously, "not a whole lot at the moment. We're grounded."

It was true; the parents of the band had been united in that decision.

Except for Gunnar's dad, anyway. And thankfully Gunnar had only been irritated about the whole grounding situation for about as long as it took him to check his E-mail and see that he'd been invited to gig with quite a few bands over the next several months.

Archie was thrilled for him, and also for their band: Gunnar had promised to forge as many connections as possible so that they had options when it came to their eventual second concert.

And there would be a second concert; Archie was positive. It would just take a few months to convince the parents to let them get onstage again.

"I suppose not a whole lot of venues want to take a second risk, huh?" The interviewer leaned forward, smiling conspiratorially. "It's hard to find people with true vision."

"Well. It's probably not the worst vision in the world to expect the unexpected from us," Archie was also leaning forward and pretending to confide in the reporter. As long as they weren't able to play concerts, they'd decided to play 'hard to get' as a band and give teasing comments in this press conference - and then disappear from the scene until the buzz grew intense.

And until they were ungrounded. Whatever.

The reporters stared up eagerly as Archie thought through what other bones to throw them. He smiled, once again aiming for 'mysterious,' and ignored his parents' less than subtle motions signaling him to hurry up and close out the interview.

This was fun.

**00000**

They had not driven for all that long, but Jughead was still grateful for the opportunity to get out of the car and stretch his legs. The wind was cold, but even that was welcome since he still felt a little groggy from the night they'd spent in the hotel in Toronto: he'd fallen asleep before seven pm in the soft bed and only woken up around ten am.

It was nice to get out of close quarters for a few minutes, too.

From the moment he'd awoken in the hotel room, Jughead had been overwhelmed by the idiosyncratic ways in which Brand and his dad were reacting to them being out of danger at long last.

FP had been sitting on the edge of the bed in the hotel room watching Jughead sleep, as if he was worried that his son might fall victim to SIDS at any moment. Brand had returned while Jughead was showering, and surprised his godson with takeout from all over their stomping grounds - and then Brand had watched Jughead eat as though he were an endangered animal in a zoo exhibit.

Thankfully the scrutiny had lessened somewhat after that, even though Jughead had periodically gotten a vibe from both adults that if it had been in any way socially acceptable, he'd have been on an actual leash.

At least after everything that had happened, that overwhelming protective impulse from Brand and FP was equal parts reassuring and terrifying. Under any other circumstances, Jughead was pretty sure that 'terrifying' would have won by a landslide, and he'd have been ready to escape at the first opportunity - instead of just complaining loudly and continually, as he'd ended up doing.

The day had not been all bad, either. The wolf pack had spent their remaining hours in Toronto showing FP around and telling him stories. The bookstore had been quite the adventure, since the cashier recognized them and assured Brand that he'd donated generously to his 'cause' and was encouraging others to do the same.

Jughead was still surprised that his dad hadn't said anything and had simply let Brand explain that they'd raised all the funds that they needed - and then some. Jughead hadn't checked the website personally, but he got the sense that the amount donated to Brand had reached somewhere in the high six figures and was still climbing.

Now they were driving home from Toronto in a caravan with the rest of the FBI. Except for Clark, anyway, since he had left the day before with Max, Tim, and the three dogs.

"Is your camera handy? This is kind of neat." Brand gestured toward the whirlpool far below the scenic overlook that they'd pulled into.

"I'll go get it," Jughead jogged back toward the car. "It's too bad we can't stop at the actual falls too."

"Well, now. Maybe we can." FP was getting out of the driver's seat and pulling on his non-Serpents leather jacket against the chill. "A little bird told me that everyone was authorized for one more night of per diem. And apparently if we upgrade to a room with a view, we only have to pay the difference."

Jughead stared at his father. "Wait. Did you _plan _this?"

"I sure did. It's a getting-out-of-jail surprise for you and Brandon. We're all staying at a hotel overlooking the falls tonight." FP grinned when Jughead whooped and gave him a hug. "As I recall, you were awfully interested in doing this during the summer. It'll be cold, but also a lot less crowded now."

"Brand, did you hear that?" Jughead scrambled to retrieve his camera from the car as he yelled toward his godfather. "We get to stay over at the falls!"

"The area's a lot more touristy than I think you're picturing, kid," Brand said, but then he smiled. "Don't let me spoil it for you, though. You'll be impressed; it's a destination for a reason. That's really nice of you, FP."

"All I ask is that I not hear the phrase 'whipping boy' come out of your mouth again for at least twenty-four hours." FP gave Brand a look.

"Done. For the duration of our stay, I will not mention any of the imminent issues awaiting me in Riverdale." Brand held up his hand as if he was pledging allegiance. "This will be fun. Have you booked any tours? We should do it up right; we should plan to have dinner somewhere photogenic."

"It's all arranged. Relax." FP smiled, though. "I do know how to plan a surprise."

SAC Wilson strolled over from her own car. Agent Sarah did not get out of the passenger seat, Jughead noticed with a frown.

"Are Betty and Archie and everyone staying overnight too?" Jughead asked.

"Alice wants to spend some time talking with Hermione Lodge, so Sweet Pea is giving her a lift on his motorcycle all the way back to Riverdale." FP was clearly impressed, while SAC Wilson seemed mildly horrified by this information. "Sheriff Keller is taking Kevin straight home, and Joaquin is long gone. But yeah, everyone else is spending the night here with us."

"Cool." Jughead's fingers tightened around his camera as he considered the photo opportunities he was likely to have.

"I thought I might ask you about your introducing Max to Mr. and Mrs. Davies, as long as we have some time," SAC Wilson said to Jughead. "Do you think we could carve out a few minutes to talk, either tonight or tomorrow?"

"Wow. You're like a mom," Jughead said, shaking his head in amazement. "Eyes in the back of your head."

When Wilson and his father both reacted, exchanging disconcerted looks, Jughead froze.

"Uh, I just mean that you, um, see things. Most of what's going on. I didn't mean anything unprofessional, I promise." Jughead grimaced apologetically and began to move away toward Brand and the overlook. "I'm sorry. And, yeah, we can find time to talk. Maybe tonight at the hotel?"

"It's fine, Jughead," Wilson called after the retreating teen. "That sounds like a good plan."

Jughead nudged Brand once he'd reached his godfather, and they moved together toward the railing. "Okay, I might be losing it. But I have to ask. My dad and SAC Wilson?"

Brand pushed Jughead's shoulder hard enough that the teen stumbled a step before he shoved Brand in return.

"_What_?" Jughead demanded.

"Never in a million years, kid. And don't you _ever _say that again." Brand laughed loudly, and the sound echoed in the vast space over the water. "Can you imagine?"

Jughead sneaked a glance back toward FP and Wilson, who were watching him and Brand. He wasn't sure that he could imagine it, but he also wasn't sure that he was wrong.

Stranger things had happened.

**00000**

"So I'm co-managing the band with Mrs. Andrews," Veronica was explaining the new arrangement, "and already learning a huge amount about business, merchandising, and the music industry."

"My mom didn't know what hit her. Ronnie's already amazing at it. It's going to make a rocking college application essay, too," Archie confirmed with a proud smile.

"And Alice is going to stay with you and your mother?" Betty asked Veronica. "That's so nice."

"We talked it over, and it makes a lot of sense." Veronica was suddenly more subdued, but clearly trying to remain upbeat. "She's going to offer to pay my mother some rent and pitch in for utilities, and she's even talking about commuting to a local college and keeping her room for at least freshman year. I had kind of thought I'd get my mom to myself for a while before I leave for college... but I'm sure it will work out."

"Of course it will," Jughead said confidently. "Alice is great; you'll have a blast. And I'm sure you'll get tons of time with your mother."

"Huh." Brave face or no, Veronica frowned at Jughead's blithe response. "I'm going to remind you that you said that."

"What do you mean?" Jughead was puzzled.

"Well, from what you said, Brand's parents are probably going to foster Max. Brand seems kind of protective of them now that they've showed up," Veronica pointed out. "And nobody's able to ignore the ridiculous tension between him and Agent Quinn, even if we want to."

That had been fairly awkward, Jughead had to admit. "Okay, but-,"

"And you can't tell me you haven't noticed Wilson noticing your dad," Veronica said. She gave Jughead a knowing smile when he looked startled. "Oh, come on. It makes sense, too; now that he's the perfect blend of respectable and bad boy, it was only a matter of time before someone scooped him up."

Jughead wasn't sure what his expression was doing, but Betty was trying valiantly not to laugh while rubbing his arm reassuringly, so it couldn't be good.

"But don't worry. I'm sure you won't be left home alone because FP's having a sleepover and Brand's off teaching Max to ride a horse at his parents' ranch." Veronica raised her eyebrows significantly.

"A _sleepover_?" Archie snorted.

"Well, what's going on with your parents, Arch? Speaking of sleepovers and all." Betty's tone suggested that she was defending Jughead even though the question was innocuous enough. "Mine are having their usual drama, so if I wasn't already committed to helping Agent Quinn with the new Krav training program at the field office I'd be tempted to tell them that we're spending a full week in Niagara-," Betty gave Jughead a reassuring look when he wrapped a protective arm around her, "-but your mother looks awfully cozy with your dad."

"Yeah." Archie lifted one shoulder. "I have predicted eighteen out of zero make-ups, though, so I'm not weighing in this time."

"You predicted what?" Betty made a face.

"He thought they would get back together a bunch of times," Jughead supplied, "but they never have. I don't think I could make a guess either, man. I thought for sure this spring-,"

"Me too. That was lucky number eighteen," Archie said with a sigh. "I think FP and SAC Wilson have a better chance of making it. Or Brand and Agent Sarah, for that matter, and he's about to go back to jail for stalking."

They all turned to look at the adults.

FP and Aaditi were standing near an overlook, chatting while they pointed out various sights. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews were sharing a bench and seemed to be people watching while they talked. Agent Quinn was leaning out over a railing so that she could get a better view of something far below, and Brand was watching her longingly from about twenty feet away.

"I'll tell him to cool it." Jughead rolled his eyes. "I'll be right back, Betty."

Betty squeezed Jughead's hand and then let him go to Brand.

"Hey. Are you doing okay?" Jughead asked as he approached his godfather.

"Never better," Brand draped an arm around Jughead's shoulders and pulled him against his side. "Wow; you feel cold, kid. We're breaking your winter coat out when we get home. Are you ready for the fireworks? Those test shots mean they're coming any minute."

"Yeah." Jughead leaned into Brand's warmth. "You're not cold at all."

"One of my many charms." Brand smiled down at Jughead. "Are _you _okay? You can go hang with your friends, you know. I'm not going anywhere, and we can always talk about my woes back at the hotel after we all split up for the night."

"I know that." Jughead thought through what he wanted to say. "I just… I want to spend time with you too. Even though I guess we don't exactly _need _each other now that Rose is locked up, I still want to do things with you. Like watching fireworks. It doesn't always have to be when there's nothing better going on."

"Nice as that is to hear, you literally just admitted that hanging out with your friends would be better," Brand chided gently. He pushed Jughead's shoulder. "Go. Niagara Falls is a place you should enjoy with a girlfriend. Especially when there are fireworks."

"Okay." Jughead took a step away and then turned back toward Brand. He hesitated before speaking again. "Brand... you're going to keep in touch with your parents now. And Max is probably going to be placed with them. And I know a lot is going to be different now with the FBI-,"

"Jones." Brand cut him off and waved a hand as if he were shooing away a fly. "Nothing's going to change. You're my godson. You're apparently not planning to ditch me for Betty, foolish as that decision is, and at this point you'd be trading up if you took FP over me."

Brand smiled reassuringly. "Roy was right; this is the kind of luck that people sell their souls for and still can't get. I'm not looking for anything to change, except maybe for you to grow up and be a little less trouble. More of a partner in crime. Or, uh, crime_-solving_," Brand made a face, "since I probably shouldn't be talking about breaking the law with you so soon after we got out of jail, huh?"

"Probably not." Jughead grinned. He stepped back toward Brand, who pulled him into another warm hug.

"We made it this far, kid. We're not technically home yet, but I think we are officially home free." Brand tousled Jughead's hair.

Jughead squeezed Brand and when he smiled over at his dad it didn't surprise him to see that FP was looking around for him. His dad visibly relaxed when he caught sight of Jughead with Brand.

They both waved to FP, and he walked over through the crowd to join them.

"The fireworks are about to start. You're not going to watch them with Betty?" FP asked Jughead.

"That's exactly what I was saying," Brand agreed. "Don't make her watch them alone, Jones."

Jughead eyed the two adults, but both looked relaxed and happy. "All right. Just don't fight," Jughead admonished as he left them.

"We'll try our hardest," FP called after him, his tone radiating amusement.

Jughead rejoined Betty and wrapped his left arm around her. She leaned into him, and Jughead sneaked just one last glance back at his dad and Brand.

The other two members of the wolf pack were standing at the edge of the overlook, talking and laughing together.

Jughead lifted his camera and caught a shot of them, just as the first bursts of fireworks illuminated them in the crowd.

"We've all come a long way," Betty observed when she saw where Jughead was looking.

"Yeah." Jughead buried his nose in Betty's hair and inhaled deeply as she giggled lightly at the sensation. The fireworks display picked up speed and continued to hold the attention of seemingly everyone in the city. Jughead recalled Brand's words: "And now we're home free."

**00000**

**I feel like I should have a giant flag to plant here. **

**I hope you enjoyed and I am so glad you've read along! I've loved writing this series so much, and I wasn't kidding about there maybe being more in the works... and I think you can see where that would go... but nothing is guaranteed, and nothing will be forthcoming until a good hiatus has been had.**

**Special thanks once again to Living Lucid Dream(!) and Skyrider45, and Guest for your unfailing support and responses. It's been amazing to connect with you over this story! I'll love hearing from other readers, too, since there's a place in my heart for every note. But man, the investment of the regular reviewers is something really special and it made this story so much more than it otherwise would have been.**

**Thank you, thank you, and thank you. It's been an amazing ride!**

**Be well, and don't be strangers!**

**-Button**


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